Feel It in My Bones
by PenguinxHero
Summary: '"Matt, you are the only person who can stand to be around Mello for any real length of time without feeling the urge to punch him in the face; this was bound to happen eventually." Just what was I getting myself into? ' M&M slash AU. Matt's POV.
1. Failure by Design

**Woo! It's finally finished! I spent most of yesterday marathon-writing the final chapter. Next thing I have to do is edit all of them. I am thinking that I will probably be able to post a chapter per week with the way my schedule is currently. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.  
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**Warnings (for the entire story): Strong language, suggested sexuality, mentions of recreational drug use, and heavy doses of teenage angst (haha).  
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**Suggested Listening: **_Failure by Design_ - Brand New

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**Feel it in My Bones**

**~Failure by Design~**

There was something to be said of a lazy afternoon spent staring up at the ceiling numbly. Maybe it was the shapes appearing to dance before my very eyes or the sun flooding into my haven through half-turned blinds – I was slowly going insane.

It was the heat of the summer, the layers of clothes I persisted in wearing despite said heat, my mother watching cartoons downstairs because she said they were the only thing that she could stand to watch anymore – who was I kidding? Above all else, it was the snarky little blond that I knew would be ringing me up any moment to tell me to get my ass out of bed.

If you asked anyone about who Matt was, they would undeniably give you a blank stare. If you reiterated, and instead asked who the dorky ginger kid was with the gaudy goggles, they'd most likely laugh and answer that he was Mello's friend. Keeping that in mind, ask anyone who Mello was and you'd get everything from his favourite colour to the very intimate fact that he goes commando.

How people found out about that particular fact is anyone's guess.

The truth stands: everyone knows Mello. Everyone loves Mello. Everyone _wants _Mello.

And what about that ginger kid? The so-called "Matt" with the odd-looking goggles? Well, that's me. And if you were paying attention, you should recall that barely anyone is aware of my existence – except Mello.

Mello: the guy who must always be the center of attention, the one with a fiery temper and slightly effeminate looks, the one who is decked out head-to-toe in leather but is always so careful to wear the least he can manage without the risk of being fined for stopping at street corners – was my best friend. And for some odd reason, I was his.

Don't get me wrong; it isn't that I am really that much of a loser, but more that I just can't bother myself with people. Idle conversation, endless complaints about non-existent angst, selfish priorities, and superficial ideals were just a few of the things that annoyed me to no end. How unfortunate that the things I loathed happened to plague the general population on a daily basis.

I chose at a young age to blend into the social backdrop. Sure – bright red hair, streaky shirts, clunky combat boots, and – lest we forget – my goggles are Grade A attention-getters. However, they all-together amount to such an oddity that I am rarely approached – except for that fateful day in Kindergarten.

As would be the norm for the rest of my school career, barely anyone approached me on the first day of Kindergarten. There had been Linda – a girl who would continue to pester me from that day forward – but other than that, I had not been bothered. I had been grateful.

The second day of Kindergarten had been a very different story. Only two minutes into recess and I was faced with a blond hellion only an inch shorter than myself with a feline grin and trouble brewing in his eyes. No words were exchanged; he merely pulled down my goggles in a reckless gesture – and I was his.

Thirteen years later – give or take a few months – and here I am lying on my bed, rotting my mind as I listen to the distant sound of '_Mellow'_ by Spacekats playing in the background – and I was still his.

Wait – '_Mellow_' by Spacekats? Shit! That's Mello's ringtone!

Moments later I had my cell phone to my ear and was abruptly greeted by the sweet sound of Mello's voice.

"Get out of bed, you lazy fuck! It's four in the afternoon, and the party starts in an hour!"

I grimaced. Did I honestly say sweet? My mother always did say I was too sarcastic for my own good…

"Do I have to go?" came out more as a wishful sigh, a vain attempt at coaxing Mello's steel will into submission.

I heard something that could only be identified as a scoff. "Are you kidding me? You are going to get out of bed right now, get into _clean _clothes, tame that bed-head of yours, and meet me downstairs in five minutes – or so help me, I will tether your ass to my motorcycle and drag you behind it down the highway."

So I was going to the party, then.

Sounding rather resigned, I told him, "I'll see you in five minutes." With that, my phone was discarded on my night table and I dragged myself out of bed with a groan.

Finding something to wear wasn't much of a problem; I just pulled on an old Ramones t-shirt, got into a clean – as Mello had emphasized – pair of jeans, and stepped into a pair of converse. Of course, my trusty goggles completed the ensemble.

Going into public without my goggles was the equivalent to other people's fears of going into public without clothes on. Except nudists, I suppose; those people had to be _fearless_.

Now that I had completed the first part in Mello's set of instructions, I begrudgingly took a comb to my hair. Two minutes of struggling with tangles spent, and I half looked presentable – if that was at all possible.

The only thing I had left to do was gather my phone, house keys, and my DS (in case of emergency – a.k.a. mind-numbing boredom), a task that took up quite a bit of time due to the all-consuming messy state of my room. Key items finally located, I shrugged into my coat and put the objects I had spent so much time looking for into the deep pockets.

The house was almost entirely quiet when I finally left my room. Down in the living room I could hear the TV set still on and the occasional rustle of a blanket. I took the stairs two at a time, the creaks of the steps sounding out louder than usual.

My mother looked up at me with her usual soft smile when I came into the room. As I had suspected, she was curled up on the sofa under a blanket (under which she was most likely still wearing her bathrobe) and was watching Bugs Bunny.

I chose to ignore the prescription bottles that had sat untouched on the coffee table for the last few days.

A light seemed to come into my mother's eyes as she took in my appearance. "Well, don't you look handsome! Are you off to see Mello, then?"

I was about to answer her when there was a loud knock on the screen door. With a roll of my eyes and a knowing smile from my mother, I walked over and opened the door.

Unsurprisingly, Mello stood in the doorway in his usual leather get-up, helmet under his arm. In a gesture that spoke volumes of his personality, he walked into my house without being invited in and grinned widely.

I swear, the room brightened up considerably just from his smile.

"Hello, Mrs. Jeevas! I am here to pick up Mail." I cringed inwardly at my real name. "I promise whole-heartedly that I will bring your son back in one piece and entirely unscathed." At this point he had raised a hand to put emphasis on his vow.

Scouts honour, is it?

My mother giggled and I smiled. When Mello was in a good mood, it was more infectious than you would believe.

Mello waited patiently off to the side as I went over and kissed my mother on the cheek. "Bye, Mom. 'Love you."

"I love you, too. Behave yourself." She gave me a mock-stern look before calling over my shoulder. "You watch him like a hawk, okay?"

Mello laughed. "'Will do."

With that, Mello and I were out the door.

Despite the fact that Mello's motorbike being parked in front of my house was a common occurrence, it never failed to amuse me just how out of place it always looked. More specifically, it never failed to amuse me just how much my suburban-dwelling neighbours unabashedly gawked at it.

Mello sauntered up to the bike and swung a leg over with ease, a sight I was also familiar with. His eyes met mine from under his blond bangs a moment later, and I noted the sudden change in them.

A smirk was settled on his face and he had that same feline way about him that I had noticed the day I had met him. I returned the smirk, amused even further.

Once again the front he always put up for my mother had melted away.

Mello gave me a toothy grin and gestured for me to come over with a tilt of his head. "C'mon, momma's boy. We have to haul ass just to get there in time to be fashionably late."

As I got on the bike behind him, tentatively wrapping my arms around his slender waist, I allowed myself to wonder the same thought that had risen to the forefront of my mind numerous times since meeting Mello all those years ago.

Just what am I getting myself into?


	2. Sugar, We're Going Down

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed, fav'd, and subscribed!  
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**It's funny; I've tried three separate times to add a missing question mark to the summary, and each time it disappears. Seriously, summary box, what's your beef with interrogative punctuation? XD Has anyone else experienced this problem?  
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**On another note, I left the location of the fictional town up to the reader's imagination; I felt that different situations would be easier to identify with that way. For the sake of the story, however, I'm going off of the laws where I live. So, the legal drinking age for the characters is eighteen.  
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**For anyone who wants to see the cover in more detail, follow the link to my deviantArt account on my profile.  
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**Suggested Listening:** _'Sugar, We're Going Down' - _Fall Out Boy

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**Feel it in My Bones**

**~Sugar, We're Going Down ~**

The world is an entirely different place when viewed from Mello's motorcycle. Between gripping his waist tightly to ensure that I did not become melded with the cars he was swerving between and the indistinct blurs that I was sure must be part of the downtown scene, it's an adrenaline-inducing experience.

Of course, if I were driving, we would probably be racking up just as many traffic violations.

The truth is, I may be the quieter person between the two of us, but my mind is no less deviant. Behind every plot and prank, there is always a person doing the technical work. While Mello liked putting the work into making intricate schemes and seeing them through, I just liked to blow shit up plain and simple.

I have no idea when it became known to us that our Kindergarten friendship would morph into something so Bonnie and Clyde. I suppose it was somewhere between putting gum in Linda's hair and making animal noises every time Miss Parker would get up to write on the chalkboard. It was in vain that our teachers would separate us; we would just wait until they sent us out in the hall or, as we got into middle school, detention to do our plotting.

Getting into trouble was our favourite pastime – and in some ways, I guess it still is.

For better or worse, we would always be partners in crime.

But I digress. The whole point I was trying to make – even as Mello nearly goes up on the sidewalk and runs over a pedestrian – is that I am just as reckless as he is when it comes to some things. We both feel the need for speed; I just satisfy mine with cars rather than motorcycles.

Due to how fast we were going, it was unknown to me when downtown melted back into the suburbs. This side of town was where the more well-to-do families lived. Perfectly manicured lawns and rows upon rows of hedges rose up to greet you like the epitome of perfection. Each house had a missus waiting at home for her husband's pay check while the hired help made a lovely meal and the spoiled brats of the house complained about something. Everything in the house would match (the plastic coverings on the couches down to every last speck of dust) and nothing would ever feel out of place. It was a place without care.

It was sickening, to say the least.

I wasn't so naïve as to believe the façade that these families put up, but that didn't mean it annoyed me any less. Of course, not every house on this side of town invested in the image, but it was the majority that counted.

Fortunately, the house we were headed to was from the minority population.

Our destination was far from being hard to spot; it was the biggest house in town. It was by no means an eye sore, however; it wasn't overly decadent or tacky in any way. It was surprisingly tasteful for a house of its size.

Mello zoomed through the neighbourhood without care; I would hazard a guess as to say that he was happy with the lack of obstacles. Most people were still making their way through downtown or already had their cars parked inside their garage which would make for a delightfully smooth ride through the neighbourhood in Mello's eyes.

As we went, the houses got larger in size and spread further apart. Up ahead we could see an old-style Victorian house squatted elegantly on the hill. Mello roared up the cobblestone drive leading up to said house and screeched to a stop in front of the three-car garage. Putting down the kick-stand, he waited for me to get off.

"And here we are!" The grin on his face was apparent in his tone of voice, despite that fact that I couldn't exactly see his face at the moment.

I hopped off and stuck my tongue out at him after taking off my helmet. "Just barely."

He smirked – big surprise. "What's a few close scrapes with death, I always say."

While I was still holding mine, his helmet was already hanging from the handlebars and after shaking out his hair to effectively bring it back to its full state (Mello spends too much time worrying about his hair, in my opinion), he reached out to take my helmet, as well.

"That frame of mind is going to come back to bite you in the ass one day," I said as I handed it over.

After everything was in order and the keys were safely out of the ignition and in Mello's pocket, we made our way up the walkway and to the steps. I shoved my hands into my jeans' pockets as we walked, my converses scuffing along the pavement.

I heard a snicker come from Mello as I reached out to ring the doorbell. That familiar chiming of bells rang out in the house, and I turned to look at Mello questioningly.

That crazy smirk that seemed to be making quite a number of appearances on his face lately was showing itself once again as he responded, "I suppose you're right, but I can't exactly blame it; my ass is delicious."

I didn't have much time to comment before I heard the door creak open next to us, and so I settled for quirking an eyebrow at him before turning to the new arrival.

"Hey, L." I grinned.

In front of us stood a hunched over man in his early twenties with thick, black hair sticking out in all directions. Just like me, he had his hands shoved into his pockets and – unlike me – he was standing on one foot while he scratched his ankle with the other. All-consuming, onyx eyes peered at us thoughtfully as he brought his thumb to his lips.

"Greetings, Matt." His eyes flicked over to my blond-haired hellion of a best friend. "Mello." He proceeded to nibble on the aforementioned thumb as he brought his second foot back to the ground. "I trust that you had a safe trip."

Ah, so he had noticed Mello's motorcycle parked in the driveway…

"Quite. The cars practically swerved out of the way to accommodate our passing," Mello answered with a satisfied little grin.

I could have sworn there was the beginning of a smile tugging at L's lips, but all evidence of the expression disappeared before I had the chance to give it any thought.

"The others are already sitting in the backyard. Come in – but please do take care to remove your footwear; Watari just washed the floors today." L accompanied his statement with a slight tilt of his head which was about as much of a welcoming gesture as we were going to get from him.

It was only after L mentioned the elderly man that I noticed Watari standing off to the side behind L with his usual warm, caring smile present on his face. The relationship L had with the man was entirely out of the ordinary in every sense of the words; Watari was his grandfather, and yet he acted more as his butler. The old man did everything around the house: cooking, cleaning, maintenance, accommodating of guests – you name it. L welcoming guests was a rare courtesy that he only ever granted to his closest companions.

And even then, we only got the normal guest treatment from L half the time – if that.

Mello had proceeded into the house as soon as the invitation was spoken – of course not heeding L's request. His heavy combat boots made loud _thunks _on the marble as he sauntered across the foyer.

Watari's expression didn't change the entire time, and still I couldn't help but grimace.

"May I take your coat?" Watari asked as Mello passed by him.

The blond stopped in his tracks and threw an award-winning smile over his shoulder. "Naw. I got this, Gramps." And then he continued on his way through the house and to the backyard.

I took care to remove my shoes, setting them off to the side where they wouldn't get in the way, and then made to follow Mello.

"Oh, Matt. I've been meaning to ask you how that car of yours is doing," Watari spoke up just as I was about to pass under the archway.

I stopped and turned back, answering him with a shrug, "It's alright. I'm definitely going to have to replace some of the parts – not to mention it really needs a new coat of paint."

Ah… My car. A gorgeous cherry-red Chevy '69 Camaro. Sure, right now it didn't have a snow ball's chance in Hell of starting, and it was a bit more "rustic" – heavy emphasis on the _rust_ – than it should be, but just the thought of driving it made all the work I had been putting into it worth it. And the fact that Mello always came over to watch me work on it was an added bonus.

Watari nodded, smiling once more. "Let me know when you require those parts, and I would be happy to help you acquire them."

Watari's real name was Quillsh Wammy; Watari was just his professional name that he preferred to go by most of the time. When he wasn't playing maid for L, he was down in the basement working on a new invention, making plans to build a new lavish orphanage, or designing a drop-in centre for the homeless. He was a great man, someone I definitely looked up to both as person and as an inventor.

"I… I couldn't do that. Thanks… really – but I'd feel bad if I got the parts without working for them."

The old man had taken an interest in my project ever since I'd first found the thing just sitting in a vacant lot behind the Dairy Queen downtown. I really had had no way to get it back to my house since it didn't run, and we really didn't have the money for a tow truck… But somehow, one day I woke up and saw that the car had magically appeared in my driveway. After asking around, I finally talked to Mello about it and I found out that he had asked Mr. Wammy to help get it there. Despite my best friend being an ass most of the time, he really could do nice things when he felt like it.

However, I just couldn't let Watari help me more than he already had. I know it was partly the philanthropist in him reaching out to me and also because he wanted to aid me because of my interest in mechanics… but I just didn't want the sympathy that came along with it. I'd had enough of that ever since…

"Alright. Then why don't you come and help me out with my project one time? Then we'd be even."

I shifted my feet uncomfortably. "I still wouldn't feel right about it… It wouldn't be much work for me, anyways. I like doing that stuff."

He rested a hand on my shoulder. "Matt, I insist." His tone most certainly left no room for discussion.

I looked down at my feet, fidgeting some more. Watari always had a way of making me feel like I was a kid again. "Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. I'll leave you to your party now," he said before turning and heading off to the basement.

I stood there for a moment, thinking about what just happened. I didn't have much time to ponder it, however, because a moment later I felt someone tap on my shoulder. Whirling around in surprise, I came face to face with L.

Since when did he get there…? He had to secretly be a ninja or something…

"The others will be starting to wonder what is keeping us. We should go out and join them soon."

He didn't even blink once the whole time he was speaking. I like L, but I have to admit that his quirks do freak me out a little…

"Yeah… We should," I replied awkwardly before continuing on my way.

Now that I knew that he was behind me, I listened hard to see if I could hear his footsteps.

…'Couldn't hear a thing.

I walked a little faster.

Just as I reached out to turn the door handle, the door swung open towards me. God knows how I did it, but I sidestepped quickly, saving myself from getting imported cherry wood to the face. I had a feeling that the door would have done more damage to me than I would have done to it.

And who else could it have been, but Mello – of course, looking entirely innocent and not like he just almost broke my nose unintentionally.

"Oh. There you are. I thought you had snuck off again and went down to the Bat Cave with Watari to work on crime-fighting gadgets or something equally as lame." He was looking particularly hubristic at the moment, and I almost didn't want to tell him that I had indeed been talking to Watari.

'Wouldn't want to inflate Mello's ego to an even bigger size than it already is by telling him that he was right about something…

So instead I shrugged. "Naw. 'Just got distracted by something."

He rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "As per usual. Everyone's been wondering where you are."

Since when does anyone notice if I'm there or not?

I guess I took too long to answer him, because the next thing I knew he had grabbed my hand – I'm not going to lie, it made me blush a little – and dragged me outside. Not even giving me a chance to look around, he immediately shoved me into a lawn chair before sitting down in the chair next to mine.

Before I could recover, I was assaulted by yet another blonde going by the name of Misa Amane.

Sitting on my lap, her arms around my neck in what could be more accurately described as a stranglehold than a hug, the petite aspiring model cooed just a little too close to my ear, "Oh, Matty! Misa-Misa missed you _so_ much. Can you believe we're not going back to high school next year? It's, like, _so_ surreal!"

… Is there just something about me that attracts loud, obnoxious blonds?

"Yeah… Totally surreal." I couldn't help but spare a moment of thought on how she could possibly know what that means. "And I missed you, too… But we saw each other not too long ago…"

Misa nuzzled into me, keeping up that annoying cooing that made me want to be sick. "But that was last week… And Misa hardly got to talk to you because Mell-Mell was taking up all of Matty's time."

… Mell-Mell? I'd have to remember that one for later…

"But I always hang out with Mello… How was then any different?"

And cue the super-mega-model pout of doom…

"Exactly!" She was looking at me now, amber eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Matty's like Misa-Misa's boyfriend – except not because Misa loves Light-kun so much."

I blinked repeatedly at this new piece of information as she threw a simpering smile over her shoulder to her (admittedly unwilling) boyfriend, Light Yagami, who was sitting on the other side of the patio looking completely indifferent towards the fact that his girlfriend was currently straddling me and nuzzling the side of my face.

… Misa's just kind of a whore like that, to tell the truth.

A moment later I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked over to see that Mello had decided to invade our little, unwanted (on my half) cuddle session.

"Sorry to interrupt the love, guys," – he didn't look sorry in the slightest, as in fact his omnipresent smirk was larger than ever – "but we're in public, and your PDA is sickening enough to kill a small child."

Misa glared at him. "You are such a bitch."

I couldn't hold in my grin as he shot back, "You just realized this now?"

Thankfully, Mello's comment was enough to convince the blonde to disentangle herself from my person, and she quickly made her way over to Light and latched back onto him. I couldn't help but note the barely-concealed grimace on his face as he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around her.

Ah, the life of a parasitic multi-cellular organism and its ever-suffering host…

When I was positive that she was out of earshot, I turned to Mello. "Thanks, man. I thought she'd never let go…"

"Yeah – no problem. It's what friends are for, right?" He gave me a wink before hopping out of his chair and sauntering across the patio to where the cooler was situated.

I fought the blush that rose to my cheeks. It isn't legal for anyone to swing their hips that way…

After a moment of staring at my best friend's ass, I realized what I was doing and then proceeded to take another moment to realize that it was not socially acceptable, and then finally – of course taking more time than was necessary – I looked away. As usual, my internal struggle went by unnoticed by the other people around me.

Typical.

This was to be expected, however, as many of my friends were involved in their own personal struggles. Light was sweet-talking Misa into letting go of him by tempting her with the promise of drinks, L was by the food table shovelling anything that had a high sugar content onto his plate, Kiyomi was busy sending venomous looks in the direction of Misa and Light, Near was doing his very best to maintain his wall of misanthropy whilst building structures in the dirt with sticks – and somewhere in all of this I had caught myself checking out Mello as he was bent over grabbing a drink.

Lovely.

Since when had my life become so cliché?

I wasn't given much time to ponder this thought as two more guests had just stumbled in through the gate, laughing much louder than was necessary. Mello pulled away from the cooler holding his prize and looked over to the new arrivals with a grin.

"Halle! I was wondering when the hell you were gonna show up." Mello approached them and gave a girl with long, platinum-blonde hair a high five.

Halle gave him a smug smile as she wrapped an arm around her companion's shoulders. "Don't kid yourself. It isn't a party until we show up." Her friend – yet another blonde, might I add – smirked at this.

This caught L's attention, and he slouched over from his place by the snack table. Pulling a large lollipop out of his mouth with an audible _pop,_ he blinked at the three of them owlishly. "Might I remind you, it is a barbeque to celebrate the end of the year – not a party."

Halle rolled her eyes. "Oh, pardon me. Seeing as there is alcohol," – she gestured to the drink in Mello's hand – "and soon to be music as well," – here she held up the stereo she was carrying in one hand – "it sure seems like a party to me."

L regarded her for a few more moments before raising his shoulders in a small shrug and turning to head back to his plate. Halle and her friend shared a triumphant grin.

The friend – who I by now had placed as Wedy Kenwood (a girl that had been in my Chem. 30 class) – split off from Halle and practically runway-walked across the lawn in high heels, before approaching the seat next to mine and plopping down unceremoniously.

I watched as she took off her gaudy, black sunglasses in one hand while she reached down to pull the back of her shoes off her heels before she kicked them off to where they landed halfway across the patio. Flicking her hair out of her eyes, she reached into her jacket pocket only to pull out a cigarette carton.

She plucked one out and put it to her lips, at the same time holding out the carton to me. She spoke around the cigarette, her eyebrow quirked. "'Want one?"

I grabbed one, nodding my thanks. They were Marlboros, after all; how could I refuse?

A moment later, I lit up using the Bic lighter she offered. Taking my first drag, I once more surveyed the scenery.

Over by the door, Mello and Halle had managed to get the stereo set up and were now bickering over which mix CD they should play first. It was apparent that Light had succeeded in convincing Misa to disengage herself from him as they were now over by the drink cooler. Light's persuasion could only go so far it seemed as Misa was still clinging to his arm – but I think he took that as progress. L was still working towards diabetes at an early age, while Near was–

Wait. Where did the sheep go?

"Hello, Matt. How do you like the festivities thus far?"

… Predictable Near.

I looked down at the white hair and coal-black eyes belonging to the boy sitting on the ground next to me and shrugged. "Alright, I suppose. You?"

"I am bored," he stated bluntly.

Nodding, I took another long drag. Wedy looked over at us, her lips curled into an amused smile.

"Now, now, boys. The fun hasn't even begun yet."

Just at that moment, music blared from the stereo and a chorus of howls rose up from the two blonds in charge of the music. If that wasn't enough to drag everyone's attention to their general direction, they certainly did a good job of maintaining it as they jumped right into close-quarters dancing, hands running all over each other as they moved to the fast beat.

I chalked up my rising irritation to the fact that they were making such whores of themselves.

From where I was standing, I saw the wink that Halle gave Mello as she slid in closer.

Yes. Definitely whores.

Next to me, Wedy stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. She offered me her hand, still smiling like she'd just found a hundred dollar bill lying on the sidewalk. "Care to dance, Red?"

I looked at Near and received nothing more than a blank expression, and so I stubbed out my cigarette as well and accepted her hand.

"Sure. Why not?"

Not that I could really dance as she would soon find out.

As it turns out, this didn't matter much to Wedy as she quickly took charge, and all I really had to do was follow along. Truthfully, I didn't really have to move much, letting Wedy pull as many fancy moves as she wished.

I think it was somewhere between the second or third song that I happened to look over and see Mello whispering something into Halle's ear to which she responded with a giggle. My lapse in attention caused me to bump Wedy's foot, and she smacked me lightly on the shoulder.

"Keep up!" she scolded.

I answered her distractedly, my mind elsewhere. "Y-yeah… 'Sorry."

Wedy rolled her eyes and started us at a faster pace, making sure I had to pay attention. Despite her best efforts, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander back over to them, only to see that they weren't there anymore. A quick sweep of the yard confirmed that they were no longer anywhere in the vicinity.

This is going to be a long night.


	3. Houdini

**Suggested Listening: **_'Houdini'_ - Foster the People

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**Feel It in My Bones**

**~ Houdini ~**

It was only a matter of time before Wedy gave up on me entirely. She moved onto dancing with L (I'm proud to say that at least I have better rhythm than our dearest resident panda), and I retreated to the safety of my seat. Half an hour had passed since I had last seen Mello and Halle.

They still weren't back yet.

… I honestly didn't know how I felt about this.

As I did with most emotions I couldn't understand, I placated myself with another cigarette. Wedy wouldn't mind; she was too busy teaching L to dance. He was proving to be a fast learner.

A short time later, a beer had managed to find its way into my hands. I felt a tad better.

Self-medicating, some may call it – but I prefer, "administering a dose of much-needed sanity." Or would insanity be more appropriate?

It really didn't matter to me anymore.

Songs changed, people danced, and at some point a heavily intoxicated blond emerged from the house and made his staggering way across the patio towards me. My cigarette was plucked from my fingers and stubbed out, my drink was placed on another chair, and my lap became a seat – all before I could blink.

I looked down at the blond wiggling around on my lap, trying his best to get comfortable before finally settling on laying across me with his legs hanging over the armrest. Blue, glassy eyes peered up at me from under heavy bangs, and he huffed.

"I don' like it when you smoke," he slurred.

I couldn't help but smile at how adorable he was being – although I would never admit to having had that thought.

"Why not?" I asked, honestly wanting to hear his answer.

"'Makes you smell funny."

I chuckled. "You smell me, do you?"

He huffed once more, his bangs lifting for a moment with the rush of air.

"D' not… Your room smells funny like that sometimes, too. It's gross."

"I'm sorry," I told him. And I was – not for the way it made me smell, but that he didn't like it. I knew it was a bad habit, and also that I'd be better off without it. My self-medicating session from only fifteen minutes ago was proof of this.

We went quiet after that. The silence between us was comfortable. That's what I like about Mello; he's loud, and temperamental, and vivacious, and he tends to jump into things without thinking more often than not – but then there are times when he's contemplative, and compassionate, and caring, and fiercely, shockingly bright.

He is… amazing, to say the least.

The street lamps began to flicker on as the last third of the sun's rays bled below the horizon. A breeze went up and I felt Mello shiver against me.

"What happened to your coat?" I asked, to which he responded with a shrug.

I could only hope that it had somehow ended up being hung up in the closet. Mello had an odd sort of attachment to his long, red leather jacket, and I knew that if something had happened to it, I would be the one who was blamed.

Seeing as I was completely comfortable at the moment and he was freezing his ass off, I slid out of my own jacket and placed it around his shoulders. His shivering stopped immediately and he settled down once more. Yet another good deed accomplished by Matt the Good Samaritan…

Another silence stretched out between us after that. I became aware of the neighbours' dogs howling off in the distance, the way the light from L's kitchen spilled out onto the patio as the natural light outside began to wane, our friends having a blast as they danced with youthful fervour – and especially how Mello's dilated pupils took all this in as if he'd never seen something so fantastic in his life.

And at that moment, I pulled myself away from my appreciation of the night, and began to wonder just exactly what he was _on_.

"Hey, Mells." Insert grunt from said chocoholic. "Where did you go earlier?"

He hummed, his lips curling into a smile. "Why? Did'ja miss me?"

"No. I'm wondering, 'cause when you went inside you weren't drunk, and now you're practically plastered. Unless you suddenly can't hold your liquor after only one beer – which I doubt – you must have thrown back a shit tonne of booze somewhere between points A and B."

"Me and 'alle did shots in the bathroom," he responded with a yawn, after which he rested his head against my chest.

I shook my head. Trust Mello to find some way to do something completely stupid in any given situation…Though I had to admit, it was a lot better than what I had thought they went off to do.

Psh… Yeah. 'Like that would ever happen…

I hope.

But there was something missing in all of this, something we had forgotten…

"Where is Halle?" a voice spoke up beside me.

"Stuff it, Q-tip." Mello scowled, turning his head to look at the teenager sitting on the ground next to us. "I was just about to fall asleep."

Near's lips twitched into a small half-smile, and he brought up a hand to tangle in his hair. "My apologies, Mello. I realize now that the matter that I have brought to your attention is trivial in comparison to the prospect of you getting a good night's rest."

"Damn straight it is," Mello replied before returning to his earlier resting position, content as can be.

"As neither of you can be bothered to answer my question, I suppose I shall have to find out for myself." Near held me with his gaze as he said this – his look conveying much more than his words could – before he got up and shuffled off towards the house.

I sighed. Looks like Matt the Good Samaritan has one last good deed to do before the night is through…

I moved my shoulder slightly, shaking Mello in the process. "Hey, Mells. Wakey, wakey…"

"Fuck off, Matt…" he grumbled, hiding his face in my chest.

Rolling my eyes, I persisted in shaking him. "I have to get up."

"If you need to piss, fucking hold it. I'm sleeping."

… That was the conclusion he jumped to?

"No, it has nothing to do with that… I'm gonna go help Near find Halle."

A snort sounded from the blond strewn across my lap as he cracked an eye open to look at me. "I thought we already went over that. As Near said, it's a trivial issue and whatnot. Look, you can go and look for her if you want, but five bucks says she's chilling out somewhere still getting high."

I blinked. So they _had_ done drugs… That explained so much.

It took quite a bit of wiggling around, but finally I managed to get out of the chair without removing Mello from it. Looking around, I saw there was still no sign of the platinum-blonde girl anywhere – and believe me, she was hard to miss. Seeing as it was the only option presented to me left to take, I went into the house to find Near and see if he had found her yet.

As I entered the kitchen, it occurred to me that if I looked in the bathroom, I might find Mello's jacket seeing as that was the last place he had been with it still on his person. The first thing I noticed upon walking into the bathroom was – of course – the heavy smell of marijuana. Unfortunately, besides that, all that occupied the bathroom was what you would expect to find there along with – something you wouldn't expect – a half-empty bottle of tequila and shot glasses. Neither Halle, nor Mello's jacket were anywhere to be found.

I didn't have much luck anywhere else on the first story level either. I knew that there was no way that Halle could have made her way down to the basement as Watari had locked the door after having gone down there. Just as I was thinking of trying the upstairs, Near descended down the staircase.

"Any sign of her?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. If Near had found her, she would probably be following him right now as he walked towards me down the stairs.

I received a negative shake of the head, confirming what I had already suspected.

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Then where could she have gone?"

He gave me a shrug, twirling a lock of his hair between two fingertips. "Perhaps she went home."

"She couldn't have. I'm pretty sure her and Wedy came here together."

"You are right. She wouldn't leave her friend," he replied, nodding. "I will check again in case of the event that I had somehow missed her." And just like that he was ascending the staircase once more.

But still the suggestion nagged at me. What if she _had_ went home? Maybe her and Wedy had arranged separate rides, or had merely gotten here at the same time, making it appear that they had come here together.

Well. The only way to tell was to check.

Stepping back into my shoes, I went out through the front door and started down the steps. The plan was to check if Halle's car was there; if it was, further search the property and even the surrounding neighbourhood, and if it wasn't – well, we'd just have to hope that Mello was the big drinker between the two of them, and hope that she'd make it home safe.

Rounding the corner, I noticed two things. One, Halle's car was parked in the driveway and two – I could not believe my eyes – Halle was strung out on the driveway, lying on Mello's coat while smoking a joint.

Damn. I owe Mello five bucks.

Shoes scuffing along the pavement, I made my way over and sat down Indian-style next to her. It took maybe three minutes of sitting there in silence beside her for her to acknowledge me.

She exhaled slowly, the smoke curling upwards into the night sky like wispy, translucent snakes. "Hey. What's shakin'?"

I shrugged, watching as she took another hit. "Not too much. Near and I came looking for you."

"Why?" she inquired, wrinkling her nose. "What difference is it to you if I'm there or not?"

She did have a point; she was Mello's friend, not mine. In truth, I barely even knew her despite hanging around with her quite a number of times.

"I don't know… 'Felt like it was the right thing to do, is all."

She nodded. "Thanks, I guess."

We went quiet. This silence was in distinct contrast from the ones I had shared with Mello; it was like an uncomfortable void that I felt an obligation to fill with needless conversation. The problem was… I honestly had nothing to say. I settled for lying down next to her, looking up to see exactly what she was staring at with such intent.

Stars – millions of them. Out here, the blanket of light pollution barely even reached, and the single light post several feet away from us was a mere firefly in comparison to the glowing, cosmic mass of incandescence.

"Makes you feel so small, doesn't it?" Halle spoke up, startling me.

I turned my head to see that she was looking at me now, suddenly appearing very serious.

"You don't get it, do you?" she asked, looking me right in the eye.

I quirked an eyebrow, confused as to what she was on about now. "I… I'm not sure I follow…"

She sat up, frowning. "You don't get it. You see it, but you don't _really_ see it."

My gaze darted back to the sky before once more meeting her piercing gaze. "Are we still talking about the stars…? Or is this about something completely different?"

"You don't _get _it." She paused, before finally elaborating, "Mello doesn't like me – not like how he likes you."

I blinked. I had no idea what to say. Having about a million questions to ask but not being able to put them to words in my mind, I settled for blurting out a startled, "What?"

Halle sighed and stretched back out on the coat. We both fell silent once more, leaving my question unanswered.

I almost felt a strange sort of relief.

Some time later, Halle's joint burnt down and she discarded it before turning and cuddling into my side. I looked down at her just as she reached up to run a hand through my hair, a strange sort of awe shining in her cloudy eyes.

"Your hair's pretty," she admitted. "'Like a flame."

At almost any other time I would've felt embarrassed if someone had told me that, but seeing as she was under the influence, I let it slide.

I just added it to the list of things I wasn't going to question from this conversation.

Halle cuddled further into me as the wind picked up and I allowed it, too far into my thoughts to mind. I knew that at some point the music would die down and people would start to pile out into the driveway with the intention of going home – and that also meant eventually finding Mello.

But for now, the most I could do was lie out under the stars, picking out patterns and constellations while Halle slept soundly at my side, feeling smaller than I had for a very long time.


	4. This is How We Do

**Suggested Listening: **_'This is How We Do'_ - All Time Low

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~This is How We Do~**

I was aware of three things when I woke up the next morning: my phone having a spazz attack as it slowly made its way to the edge of my night table like a lemming to a cliff; my mom had ever so kindly left a sticky note stuck to my forehead, reminding me to get my clothes out of the dryer; and my alarm clock – which I remembered turning off on Friday night, mind you – was currently blaring what my dazed mind somehow identified as a monster truck ad.

… Hasn't anyone ever heard of sleeping in?

Turning over, I reached across the short distance to the surface adjacent and yanked my alarm clock aggressively out of the wall by the cord, effectively shutting up the obnoxious announcer and making me feel a hell of a lot better. Next was the sticky note, which I showed my defiance towards by scrunching it up and tossing it into the trash bin across the room from where my bed was (I was still going to get that laundry done; I could bully poor, defenseless sticky notes all I wanted, but when it came to something my mother wanted me to do, I always got it done no questions asked). Finally, I grabbed my cell phone and flipped it open.

I quirked an eyebrow as I read the first thing that popped up on my screen:

**Mello (9:01):**

_Fuccckkkk… why did you let me drink last night…_

**Mello (9:15):**

_Matt, you asshat. Are you even fucking awake?_

**Mello (9:21):**

… _Fucker._

**Mello (9:23):**

_Seriously. First you don't even stop me from drinking my own weight in alcohol, and now you're not even awake to take abuse for how shitty I feel right now._

**Mello (9:24):**

_Some friend you are._

**Mello (9:32):**

_Fuck it. I'm going to go take a shower, and you better be up by the time I get back._

**Mello (10:01):**

… _I'm going to kick your ass so hard the next time I see you._

**Mello (10:02):**

_So hard that your TEETH are going to hurt from the force of it._

**Mello (10:16):**

_Dickface._

**Mello (10:17):**

_Fuckingshitwankingpansyassed horsefuckingdickface._

**Mello (10:24):**

_Fuck it. I want McDonald's. Be there in fifteen._

Just as I shut my phone, shaking my head all the while, I heard my mother call up the stairs, "Matt! Mello's here!"

… Shit.

I leaped out of bed and hastily made my way over to my dresser, after which ensued the fastest scramble to get on clothes in what might possibly be the history of mankind.

Seriously, if getting dressed was an Olympic sport, I might have just won gold with that performance.

Wasting no time, I sped out of my room while shoving all the essentials into my pockets (read: keys, phone, cigs, and DS). I took the stairs at a rapid pace, and before I knew it, I was down in the living room. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I got there.

My mother looked up from where she was folding clothes in front of the television set. Her hair was in the soft, familiar curls I had seen it in since the day I was born, while her eyes were bright and cheerful; a good day, then.

"Good morning, dear. Mello's here, as you can see." She tilted her head to indicate the blond sitting on the couch next to her with a smile on her face.

I had long since acknowledged that fact when I had first come down the stairs. Now I was busy trying to wrap my sputtering train of thought around what Mello was _doing_.

There he sat, acting like nothing was amiss, helping my mother fold laundry. Not just any laundry, mind you, but _my_ laundry. If this wasn't already bad enough, he picked up a pair of my cartoon boxers next – of course, still keeping up the illusion that it is completely normal for a guy to perform household chores involving their best friend's underwear.

_Woah_. My mind did _not_ need to go there…

Both my mother and Mello appeared to be completely unaware of my discomfort – that is, until I saw Mello's eyes slide over to me; the smirk was barely concealed. I knew the look he was giving me. It was the look that said: "I own you."

Like I needed reminding.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I'll finish that up later. We should get going."

Mello set the laundry basket with my clothing in it aside and got up. He turned to my mother next, offering her a smile. "Matt's right. See you later, Mrs. J."

"'See you two. Drive safe!"

For the second time that weekend, we were out the door. Mello paused for a moment to wait as I picked up the morning paper and threw it back inside.

When I straightened, he continued on past me, snickering all the while as he said, "Nice underwear."

"Fuck off," I mumbled, falling into step behind him.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The McDonald's in our town lived up to the image that you came to expect when you pulled into the parking lot in hopes of eating greasy food from the establishment with the infamous double-arch logo: nice old ladies in the morning to supply you with enough coffee to fill your early morning caffeine quota, disinterested teens in the afternoon too busy popping the zits on their face to even give you the time of day, bathrooms that you do your best to avoid lest you slip on the water pooled by the sink and then bang your head on the hand dryer (happened to me once; Mello was cackling like a hyena the way to the emergency room to get me stitches), and of course the 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign that always seems to be lurking by the doorway three days after the floor was mopped.

Maybe they should move the sign to the bathroom. Just a thought.

Mello and I had worked here when we were going through junior high. Most teenagers in this town had at some point before they realized that starting wage was a bit higher at other employers in town, and made the great migration to Wal-Mart to join the ranks of the Cult of the Smiley Face. Mello and I stuck behind as we were content with burger flipping and sneaking fries whenever we pleased. It was a simple life, but wholly satisfying all the same.

It was only when we matured (really only fractionally) did we lose our fascination with deep-frying anything we could get our hands on, and moved onto greener pastures. For Mello, said greener pastures came in the form of a job in the family business, while I took up occupation at the local video store – which is a story best saved for another time.

The girl at the counter looked up immediately when we came in; she either was desperate for customers or, like every girl in the town, had a sixth sense for when Mello entered the room. Hazel eyes sparkled from under her blue, company-issued cap as she watched us walk over.

We hung back for a second as we decided what to order.

"Hm…" Mello hummed, eyes quickly scanning the menu posted above the counter.

Already knowing what I wanted, I waited as Mello mulled over the decision for quite some time; when it came to his diet, Mello always put quite a bit of consideration into it. _Especially_ when it comes to brands of chocolate. One time I took Mello to a specialty chocolate shop in the city with the intention of letting him get whatever he pleased for his birthday – worst mistake ever. We were lucky to have made it out before closing time.

I was normally quite patient with waiting for Mello to make his decisions, but the way that the girl at the counter was looking at Mello was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. She was staring so intently at him; it was almost as if she had Superman x-ray vision and could see beneath his clothes.

… And yet another possibility arises for how people found out Mello goes commando…

If it wasn't enough that she was practically raping the blond with her eyes, I couldn't get over how _young_ she was. She had to be at the most fifteen…

She was… pretty much jailbait.

I nudged Mello with my elbow. "Hey, Mells… If you're hung-over, just get something greasy."

The comment earned me a roll of the eyes and a sarcastic remark: "Well. That certainly narrows down my choices."

Mello gave the menu another onceover before he stepped up to the counter; apparently he had made his decision. The girl suddenly erupted into giggles as she greeted us, while her eyes especially lingered over Mello. I swear, if I could have a nickel for every time she reached up to twirl her air, or even a penny for every flirtatious bat of her eyelashes…

"Welcome to McDonald's," jailbait simpered. "How may I _serve_ you?"

"I'll have a McChicken meal, I guess… Oh – and shake the salt off the fries before you come back. I'd rather not have a heart attack when I'm middle aged, you get me?" Mello requested before turning to me. "What do you want?"

I placed my order, and then jailbait scurried off. Taking advantage of her absence, I quirked an eyebrow at my friend, only to receive a slight raise of the shoulders in return. Despite his blasé reaction, I could see the amused smile threatening to tug at his lips.

Jailbait came back – more like _floated_ back – a second later with our food and set it on the tray. Mello and I both gave her our share of the payment and waited as she entered it into the register.

She paused in her actions for a moment, biting her lip. She looked up and batted her eyelashes a few more time (I was almost tempted to inform her that her attempt at flirtation was really only coming off as a twitch that one might have if they were afflicted with Tourette's…) before she asked my blond companion, "Hey… You're Mello, right?"

The earlier mentioned smile nearly surfaced. "Yeah… What's it to you?"

Taking this as encouragement, she continued on, "My sister used to go to school with you… Her name's Kylie." She elaborated when Mello showed no indication that he even knew who she was talking about, "'Sat next to you in Social Studies… 'Looks a lot like me, but older…"

Mello's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, yeah – her…" He appeared to think it over for a moment before concluding, "She was annoying."

"Oh…" jailbait replied, looking crestfallen.

The girl fell silent after that, and she remained quiet while she finished putting our money into the register and counting out the change. Just when I figured she had given up on flirting entirely, her eyes flitted to Mello's as she reached out to hand him his change, purposely brushing her hand against his.

"I'm nothing like my sister, you know," she said, maintaining eye contact.

Mello snorted. "Good luck with that," he told her before he picked up our tray and walked off. It is important to note that his amused smile had long since surfaced and by now had morphed into a smirk.

Trying my best to hold in my laughter, I followed behind him quickly, leaving her to pick up her dropped jaw.

By the time I had caught up with Mello, he was already sitting in a booth near the back, pawing through all the food. I noted the scowl on his face as I slid in across from him.

"Something wrong?" I asked in response to the barely intelligible phrases he was muttering under his breath.

Mello scowled. "What do you think?" By now he was holding his box of fries in one hand, shaking it profusely.

"She didn't shake the salt off, did she?" I asked, thoroughly amused.

See? Prime example of Mello being picky about his food.

"Freaking incompetent is what she is… I only requested that _one_ thing, and she couldn't even handle it!" he huffed before slamming the box down on the table.

I reached out to grab one of the fries that had jumped ship due to the impact and popped it in my mouth. "To be fair, she was probably too busy admiring the laces on the front of your pants to even understand a word you'd said."

As soon as I said it – even though it was meant in jest – I regretted it.

Like a predator always at the ready, Mello pounced at the opportunity. "Oh, yeah?" He smirked as he leaned in towards me. "Well, you would know from past experience, wouldn't you?"

Taking its cue, my face promptly turned as red as my hair – which of course only served to amuse Mello further.

Looking back down at my food, I struggled to change the topic. "So… um… yeah. The party was fun last night, eh?"

Obviously Mello was in a forgiving mood today, because he leaned casually back in his seat and continued on with the subject I had chosen. "It was alright… 'Not much of a turnout, if you ask me."

Ah. I forgot I was speaking to Mr. Popular…

"Well, Linda couldn't be there because she had to pick up that Justin kid's shift 'cause he was sick – _again_. Near says the guy's got mono, but I don't know what to think… It's not like that kid's ever gotten kissed…" I chattered on while practically inhaling my food.

Hey, I'm hungry. What more can I say?

"Have you ever been kissed?" Mello interrupted suddenly.

I looked up to see Mello looking at me levelly across the table. I blinked. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Have you ever been kissed? You know: lip-locked, snogged, exchanged saliva, got your mac on… Kissing. This is junior-high level of conversation, Matt."

"Oh… Well, I know that… But–"

Mello shrugged. "We've never had this conversation before, so I was wondering… Friends tell each other this sort of stuff, don't they?"

"I guess…" I was quickly becoming trapped into an answer.

"Well?"

"Lindsey Fitzgerald," I blurted out.

"Fish-lips Fitzgerald?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

"She… she just kind of came at me! I panicked."

He shook his head, seemingly amused. "When did this happen?"

"Grade Seven…" I shuddered as I relived the memory.

"I always wondered why she went so moony-eyed over you for a while." He snickered.

"Don't remind me…" I grumbled.

We went quiet for a moment, Mello smiling to himself as he basked in the novelty of this new piece of information. I mostly just sat there trying to stuff long-repressed memories back into the deep, dark recesses of my mind where they belonged.

"So," Mello spoke up once again. "Since we're on the subject of the party and of lusty shenanigans, I believe it would be fitting for me to inquire as to the reason I found you and Miss Lidner curled up under the stars last night."

The mischievous twinkle in Mello's eye was enough to coax the demon in me. "What can I say? We're madly in love… We're planning on running off to get eloped one of these days, you know."

Mello shook his head. "I knew it."

"Naw… But seriously, I just found her there and figured she'd like some company. We talked for a bit, and then she curled up against me at some point and fell asleep… and well, I just decided to let her sleep instead of bother her."

Mello began to gather up our garbage, nodding as he listened to my explanation. "'Makes sense. What did you talk about?"

"Stuff. Rather… odd stuff. She said some weird things."

Mello nodded some more. "People tend to do that when they're high."

"No, but it was _really_ weird. Like… Well… She said–" I paused, something that I saw in Mello's eyes stopping me. I don't know what it was, but suddenly I couldn't tell him what she had said to me.

"You know what? Never mind. You're right; she was high. I shouldn't let it bother me."

Never one to be left out of the know, Mello quirked an eyebrow at me. "C'mon – you give me that lead-in and then leave me hanging? What did she say?"

I shook my head. "Mells, seriously. It's not important."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine – whatever. But you know I will get it out of you eventually." He let the words hang in the air as he got up to throw out our trash.

I knew I would probably have to face it eventually… But for now I wanted to keep on believing in the easy out I had given myself.

I wasn't ready to admit what I was beginning to realize I already knew – at least not yet.

Mello came back shortly and we exited together. The air outside was already warming up considerably as the morning melted slowly into mid-day. Mello, as usual, was ahead of me as he strode across the parking lot towards his bike, leaving me to follow behind.

"Your place or mine?" he called over his shoulder to me, picking up the helmets.

We both ignored the startled looks we received from a group of passers-by.

I shrugged, grinning. "'Doesn't matter to me."

We both got on and a moment later we were speeding out of the parking lot and into the street. As usual, Mello swerved through the traffic with ease, and I allowed myself to settle back into my mind.

It was times like these where I could just enjoy the moment and let the rest fall away.


	5. Back in Your Head

**Thanks for reading, everyone! You guys are awesome!**

**Suggested Listening:**_ "Back in Your Head"_ - Tegan & Sara

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Back in Your Head~**

I remember the first time I smoked like it was yesterday.

I remember the enormity of holding the cigarette between my fingers, the spark of the lighter before it produced a steady flame – and the way Mello's eyes flickered in the near-darkness as he sat across from me, waiting for me to take the first drag.

We were thirteen at the time, feeling more of a rush at breaking the rules than actually being excited at the prospect of inhaling a foreign substance into our lungs.

I remember wetting my dry lips, and trying my best to keep level eye contact with the blond as I brought the object up to my mouth.

And then…

Inhale. Feel as it slides like liquid to that one spot in the center of your chest. Savour. Exhale.

I especially remember the scowl on my best friend's face as I passed it to him to try. He looked down at the carpet as he inhaled. A cough, and then he was beating his chest as he deemed it 'nasty shit' between breaths.

"What a waste of money…" he had said afterwards, glaring at the package. Meanwhile, I sat in silence, already craving another. "Whatever… You might as well have 'em, 'cause I sure as hell don't want them."

Next thing I knew, he had flung the package at me and it hit me square in the goggles. I looked down at the package in my lap, and still to this day I can recall the grin that had spread across my face.

It had been the beginning of a beautiful addiction.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"Jesus…" Mello grumbled as he settled down on the couch. "The weather channel called for high temperatures today, but not fucking Global Warming."

I smirked in amusement as I plopped down beside him. "Maybe it's all the leather you wear; it traps the heat."

A snort sounded from the blond next to me as he flicked a piece of hair out of his face. "'Like you have any place to judge. Seriously, who the fuck wears a long-sleeved shirt and a vest in this weather?"

I flashed him a grin as I gestured to myself with my two thumbs. "This guy."

The roll of the eyes that came after my statement was the only response I needed.

Quite satisfied, I got up and walked across the space to set up the Wii I had brought over. Ever since we were twelve, I would bring over a gaming system to Mello's house and we would play for hours. Well, more like I would play – but that wasn't the point. Mello just liked to watch, I guess…

"Which game?" he inquired in a tone that implied that he was perhaps only mildly interested.

"Resident Evil 4," was the reply that came from my grinning lips as I took the disc out of its case with care and inserted it into the console.

Mello changed his tune as he responded with a suddenly more involved, "Nice." He always enjoyed the games that had gore in them.

Also, the protagonist in this one was blond.

That usually had a lot to do with it.

"Where are you right now?" Mello asked as I made my way back to the couch.

The basement was most definitely not immune to the heat wave, and as Mello was already occupying most of the couch, I opted to sit on the much cooler floor. Shrugging out of my vest, I answered him, "Just getting back to the church to rescue Ashley."

"_Tch_. She's a whore." The tell-tale crinkle of an aluminum wrapper behind me informed me that Mello had already started in on his first chocolate bar.

I smirked, thoroughly amused by the irony (he could almost look like her, but I wasn't going to be the one to inform him of that), and started the game.

Savouring the feeling of the cool plastic beneath my thumbs, I allowed myself to be absorbed into a world of parasites, religious cults, and overall kick-assery. It really wasn't the most… I suppose, _healthy_ game to play, but it served to curb my boredom in a way that wasn't at all illegal.

And it was doing a pretty good job of it.

It was maybe half an hour and some fifty-odd Ganados killed, before I came to the realization that something was touching my head. I froze. The possibilities of what it could be ran through my mind faster than I could handle. What was it? The touch felt light…

I whimpered as I felt the unknown entity weave through my hair. The images continued to flash through my thought until finally I settled on one.

By God, it was a spider!

Preparing to do the whole shy-away-slowly-pretty-much-looking-like-you-were-shot-in-the-head manoeuvre, I happened to look up. Above me, Mello was looking down upon my horrified expression with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.

"W-what are you…?" I trailed off, trying to untangle my muddled thought process.

Mello continued what he had been doing, not ashamed in the least at the prospect of being caught.

"Are you… Are you braiding my hair? That's kind of–"

He fixed me with a look. "Don't say it."

"_Weird_," I finished.

He shook his head, muttering as he continued his work, "'Better than what I thought you were going to say…"

I looked up at him with an utterly confused expression on my face. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Nothing."

"C'mon… I wanna know." I pouted.

He smirked at me once more, informing me that this was one of those things that I would just have to live with not knowing. It was disappointing, but when Mello didn't want to tell me something, there was no way of getting it out of him.

He gestured towards the TV with a tilt of his head. "Leon died."

My gaze snapped back to the screen where, moments before, the former rookie cop had met his untimely end. "… Shit."

"A right shame," Mello hummed, fingers continuing to weave my hair into plaits with astonishing speed and skill.

I reached above my head to swat at his hands, frowning in annoyance. He retaliated in kind by smacking me lightly upside the head. I sighed resignedly, slumping as I realized that childish hitting wasn't going to get us anywhere.

"Why are you braiding my hair, anyways?"

"Practice."

I tilted my head back to look at him, quirking a brow. "Practice for what?"

"Stop moving," he chided me, and I brought my head back down to facing forward. "And it's practice for doing Rosette's hair in the morning; the little brat throws a bitch fit if I don't get it right the first time. So, I got bored, and seeing you in your zombified state – pun not intended – I decided you were the perfect candidate." He smirked. "Besides, you were unaware that I was even doing it for about half an hour. I would've gotten away with it, too-"

I couldn't resist: "If it weren't for those meddling kids?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure… Whatever."

I thought over his explanation before saying, "I still think it's weird."

I mean… Honestly? The leather, the icy stare, the motorcycle, the radiating vibes of badass-ness? Mello's just not the kind of person you would expect to be braiding someone's hair – even if it's for their equally as scary ten-year-old sister.

Finally having enough, Mello raked his fingers through the plaits and then messed my hair back into its default state. Satisfied, I grinned at him before jumping up to go take the game out of the Wii.

Upon returning to the couch, I looked over at Mello and narrowed my eyes thoughtfully.

"What?" He eyed me suspiciously.

"'Just considering all of my blackmail options. After all, there are _so many_."

The next thing I knew, a pillow connected with my face. I rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

I believe everyone knows the score at the moment…

After mere seconds, I felt a weight settle over me, and then hot breath against the side of my head as the tips of his hair ghosted over my face. I froze.

"Tell anybody, and you're dead."

Of course, he wasn't serious – neither had my blackmail comment been, for that matter – but still I fought back, and two minutes later we were wrestling in the middle of the basement floor.

Eventually seeing an opening, I used my weight advantage and pinned Mello against the floor. We stayed like that for a moment, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the room, until I looked up and our eyes connected. The atmosphere changed as quickly as the ignition of a match. I was suspended.

I watched, stupefied, as he raised himself up onto his elbows before I realized that I was leaning in towards him as well. The blood pounded in my ears, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders. This was it… This was–

His nose grazed my cheek as he whispered into my ear, "I win."

Of course.

I got off of him, plastering a forced grin onto my face. The sound of my laughter sounded foreign to my own ears. I kept my eyes trained on the carpet; I couldn't stand to look at him right then.

I couldn't stand to look into those damnable blue eyes and see my soul reflected there.

… I was fucked.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I couldn't concentrate at work the next day. The side of my face became well-acquainted with the grey desk at the front as I spent most of the day in a comatose state at my station. Between the rare times I actually had to rent movies to people, I barely moved a muscle.

As I sat there, my eyes would wander about the store. The usual suspects were here as always: the pair of social burnouts who always came at about noon to admire the latest indie films we had brought in, the single mother with her six kids who were no doubt wreaking havoc somewhere in the store if the noises were anything to go by, the gaggle of teen girls who always came in to 'ooh' and 'ah' at our – unfortunately – large collection of Zac Efron movies, and then that one old man who never wore anything other than that one blue bathrobe and those ratty duck slippers as he would creep about the store and hum the Star Wars theme.

My job was never dull, that's for sure.

I was perfectly content to just vegetate for the rest of the day, but – unfortunately for me – this did not rest well with others.

A hand slapped down in front of my face. I watched as an older boy ran past chasing his terrorized little brother with a cardboard cut-out of Justin Bieber before I turned my vision to the owner of the offending object, exhaling audibly. I was greeted by my little sprite of a co-worker; her dirty blonde hair was put up in a messy, casual bun, and her smart brown eyes conveyed the same look as always. It was the one that said: "You're wasting company time, Matt."

I decided to beat her to it. "I can't waste time if there are no customers to attend to."

Linda sighed. "That's not the point. Imagine how it would look to anyone who comes into the store to see an employee drooling all over the front desk?"

Slightly embarrassed, I raised my sleeve up to wipe at my mouth. Upon the discovery that there was in fact no drool, I gave the girl in front of me a glare. Linda proceeded to look quite smug.

"Do you see what I mean?" she asked rhetorically as she began to tap her multi-colored nails on the counter. "It'd be bad for business."

Leaning back to stretch in the chair I had borrowed from the back room, I answered her through a yawn, "I don't think it would be bad for business."

"Oh? What's your logic? I sure wouldn't want to be served by a guy who looks like he's been in a coma for two weeks." She shifted her weight to her right side and crossed her arms.

I pulled down my goggles to rub the tiredness out of my eyes, and then gave her a look. "We're the only video store in town. I think they'd rent videos from us even if the guy managing the desk _was_ in coma." I paused to think about it for a moment. "Although, they would have to wait for him to wake up… You guys could play on the whole 'human interest' angle, and put ads in the newspaper saying, 'Come see the human vegetable: rent movies, buy snacks, and then poke the brain-dead employee with a stick on the way out. Fun for the whole family!'"

Linda scoffed. "Don't be a smartass, Matt."

Always making his appearances at just the right time, Near got up from the floor beside me where he had been sorting the returns. "Matt's insensitivity for the terminally unconscious aside, you really should leave him be for a while. I suspect he hasn't been getting much sleep if the bags under his eyes are of any indication."

I replaced the goggles over my eyes. I hated having my eyes exposed most the time, and Near's comment about the appearance of them made me self-conscious.

Linda turned to Near, hands on her hips. "Then he can doze in the back room. As long as there are customers in the store, we need to make sure that we are putting our best faces forward."

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke apart our little staff meeting abruptly, and we all looked over. Linda was blocking my vision momentarily and so it wasn't until she looked back at me, told me not to slack off, and then finally moved that I could see who it was.

"Oh. Uh, hi, Wedy." I suddenly was aware of the unruly state of my hair and made an attempt to pat it down as discreetly as was possible.

She gave me a carmine-coloured smile as she took off her sunglasses. "Hey, Red."

I looked at her hands and was startled at the revelation that there was no merchandise in them to be rented. "So… The movies are over there if you wanted to get any or something…" I pointed out lamely.

Wedy leaned against the counter, her smile widening to reveal her shiny pearly whites. "Actually, I'm here to talk to you. When's your break?"

I blinked dumbly. "… Right." I looked over to Linda only to see that she was currently engaged in a battle with the boy with the Justin Bieber cut-out, trying to get him to calm down before he breaks anything. I turned my attention back to Wedy. "Right now, I guess."

"Awesome." She seemed to have just noticed Near standing beside us right at that moment, because she added, "Can we talk outside?"

I nodded. "Sure thing."

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I followed her outside to the sound of her high heels clacking against the linoleum. We stopped a little ways from the store entrance. I busied myself with looking at the cars rushing past us, the bustling scenery at the café across the street, and the little birds picking the berries off of the decorative shrubbery – anything to keep my mind off of the girl standing across from me.

In the back of my mind, I imagined what Mello would do if he were here right now… Most likely punch me in the shoulder and then apologize to Wedy for me being such an antisocial pussy.

… Sounds about right.

However, I didn't have Mello here for support right now, and so I would have to handle things by myself. I would be flying solo, so to speak.

I leaned against the building, running a hand through my hair. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well…" she started. I noticed at that moment that she seemed to be a tad nervous – which was weird considering who I was talking to.

Wedy really didn't seem like the type of person to be nervous about anything. She was the one who raced motorcycles with Mello outside of town on the highway when it was too late for any real amount of traffic. The one who punched Jack Donovan in the face back in Grade Four because he told her that she couldn't play kick ball with the boys. This was the girl who never chickened out on a dare, never backed down from a fight, and always hated being told that she couldn't do something just because of her gender. Wedy was a girl in every sense of the word, but she most definitely wasn't _girly_.

So, the way she was acting right now – trailing off, biting her lip, avoiding eye contact – just wasn't her.

"Here," she said suddenly, holding out a pack of cigarettes.

I blinked at her, confused, before taking one. "Thanks…"

We both leaned against the building, smoking in silence for a few moments. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, trying to make sense of her behaviour.

"Screw it," she sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke at the same time. She looked over at me. "'Want to go out some time?"

Right then, I burst into a coughing fit. The smoke I had just inhaled burned my lungs, and tears sprang to my eyes.

"Jesus!" she exclaimed, clapping me on the back.

Finally, the coughs subsided and I cleared my throat.

I had… not been expecting that.

I looked over to her to see that she was regarding me expectantly.

… Right.

Did I… or didn't I? I couldn't decide either way.

She kicked off the wall, sighing, and I panicked as I realized which option she had taken my silence as. I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"Sure."


	6. Meet Me at the Corner

**Suggested Listening: **_"Meet Me at the Corner"_ - Red Hot Chili Peppers

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Meet Me at the Corner~**

Obviously, dating Wedy – or whatever it was that we were doing – would entail spending quite a bit more time with her. That was sort of the point. What I had not expected, however, was how much time that would mean I would be spending with Halle.

Halle's nameless, changes-every-few-days boyfriend was usually included in this, and they all usually had a propensity to call me "dude" to the point of where I was contemplating suicide by cheese wire.

I was beginning to miss Mello…

Wedy and Halle, I suppose, were almost the same as Mello and I were; you couldn't have one without the other. We were pretty much a package deal.

At least, that is what Marcy Johnston, the first – and last, might I add – girlfriend of Mello's I had ever met had said. It was the summer before Grade Eight, and Mello had invited the both of us to hang out at his house. This being the first time I had ever been in this situation, I had had really no concept of the term "third wheel" and what that would involve.

Marcy had been catty at best. Apparently, her hatred of me had long been formed as, "all he ever does is talk about you!" I wasn't exactly sure of the validity of that comment, but the thought still had her in a tizzy all the same.

Mello broke up with her the next day. When asked about it, he shrugged and said, "She was annoying."

Either Mello chose to keep his girlfriends separate or had decided that dating in general was a trying concept, because I never heard a single word from him about being in a relationship since. Sure, many people wanted to go out with Mello, but he never seemed to show any interest to my knowledge.

He always got much more of a thrill out of teasing, anyways.

Considering that we were in the same situation as Wedy and Halle were, it was odd that Halle was ever present while Mello was as scarce as can be. He didn't really want to hang out at the moment, his replies to texts were short, and any phone conversations were awkward and brief.

I just assumed he was busy.

"Ugh… Gag me," Wedy groaned at the show Halle had chosen.

We were currently in Wedy's basement, lounging around as we sought refuge from the unrelenting heat outside.

Halle smirked. "Hey. We're always watching that bleeding hearts, abused animal crap that you like to cry over, so I think you can handle one episode of something that I want."

"Animal abuse is a legitimate issue!" Wedy defended. "Besides, the episode you want to watch is _two hours long_."

Halle sighed dreamily to grate on her friend's nerves. "Isn't it glorious?"

Before she could blink, Halle's face was met by Wedy's cherry-red flat turned projectile.

"Hey, dude, can you pass the chips?" Boyfriend No. 4 asked me as the two hot-tempered girls began to squabble.

I sighed and chucked the bag at him, trying my best to feign interest in the goings-on on the screen.

It was somewhere between the guy on the TV show getting bitch-slapped and Halle's boyfriend's exclamation of, "Yeah! Take it off!" that I decided to head outside for some fresh air.

Halle's boyfriend seemed to have lost interest momentarily in our two girlfriends drawing each other's blood as they engaged in a cat fight to end all cat fights – or at least that's how I'm guessing his foggy thought process would perceive their innocent mock fight – because he called to me just as I was leaving the room, "Hey, dude! Where are you going?"

I paused, counted to ten, and then continued on my way without a response.

The heat wave outside greeted me like a tonne of bricks to the stomach as soon as I stepped out the front door. I immediately found the vest I was wearing to be unnecessary and discarded it on the ground beside me. I sat down on the cement steps, guarding my eyes against the glare of the sun (not even my goggles were providing adequate protection against it) as I looked off down the street.

The neighbourhood was entirely quiet; the sane people – unlike me, apparently – were holed up indoors away from the heat. There was a slight breeze that stirred the trees every now and again, but otherwise everything was still. Only the grass, the cracks in the sidewalk, and my shadow were here to keep me company. I coughed.

Somewhere off down the street, I heard the engine of a car that was passing by and I stirred. I only caught a glimpse of it just as it turned the corner, but the image stuck in my mind as the neighbourhood was thrown back into its idle state with the car's departure. My eyes ran over the length of a crack in the cement as ants crawled in and out of it. One detail stuck in my mind and would not leave me alone.

The car was red.

Red like the shade of lipstick that Wedy wore. Red like the roses at the restaurant I had taken her to. Red like the light I had nearly accidentally ran when I had been taking her back home, distracted by my thoughts. Red like the stop sign on the corner we passed as I had walked her up to the door. Red like my face when I realized she was expecting something from me, and I had only waved goodbye dumbly. Red, she had called me, as she kissed my cheek, laughing, before heading inside.

Red like the beads in the rosary Mello always wore around his neck.

Red like the box his favourite chocolates came in, the colour of his favourite sheets (only known because of the amount of times I had heard Mello bitching at his mom when we were younger about how they always got scratchy after she washed them), the colour of the sky that one time we sat up for hours on my roof just to see the sunrise after staying up the whole night, the colour my car would most definitely be after I had painted it (Mello always teased me that it was pink, but what did he know?), and the colour my face always turned with just one look from those blue eyes.

Red like the haze that had obscured my vision when I had leaned down to k–

Fuck.

I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes sockets, exhaling audibly.

No. Not going there.

Becoming suddenly aware of how much time I had spent out here, I got up and decided to go back inside.

Back to pretending to care about what was going on on TV, back to restraining myself from smacking the unnamed boyfriend upside the head, but most of all – back to my _girlfriend_.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"Linda's wearing a skirt."

Blinking rapidly, I raised my gaze from the returns I had been sorting to see that Linda was indeed wearing a skirt.

Cue imploding of brain.

Recovering a moment later, I turned to my albino co-worker only to find that his eyes were still glued to Linda, entirely enraptured. As funny as it was, I did have to admit that the look in his eyes – at least coming from Near – was quite creepy.

"Why, Near…" I took on a feigned-surprised tone as I put a hand to my chest. "I didn't even know you were sexually aware yet!"

The teenager in question reverted to his bored expression, spearing me with his coal-black eyes.

I smirked as I turned back to the work at hand. "Why don't you just ask her out already?"

From behind me I heard Near snort, and I just barely caught the muttered comment of, "You should be talking…"

I quirked an eyebrow at this, but nonetheless shrugged it off. He said nothing more after that, and so we both continued our work in silence. I noticed Near's gaze slide back to Linda every once in a while (subtlety wasn't exactly his forte; a quality in Near that irked Mello to no end) and I sunk into my thoughts.

It was funny; I'd never really expected Near to like anyone, much less that _anyone_ turning out to be Linda. I suppose it was also biased reasoning on my part as Linda and I didn't exactly see eye to eye… but I just didn't see what Near did in her. She was bossy, short-tempered, called me out in front of others with the sole purpose of embarrassing me…

Generally, we got along just fine.

Except, you know, the ninety-five percent of the time that we didn't.

It wasn't always like this between us. We'd actually been friends in a very casual way (as it was the elementary years, I had to accept that I was a boy and therefore had cooties, and any prolonged exposure to me would greatly affect Linda's social standing within her group of fellow female children), and this had continued on up until junior high. That is, up until the most important party of Grade Seven (or so we all thought) came around and I, aiming to redeem myself after the whole embarrassing stint with Fish-lips, had kissed Linda in a game of spin the bottle.

It had been awkward at best; teeth clashing, noses bumping, and that mortifying moment when we both realized that neither of us had bothered to close our eyes.

And then, when we pulled away… Or rather, didn't pull away – because our braces were stuck together.

You can only begin to imagine the public humiliation that followed.

Afterwards, Linda and I had inevitably drifted apart, and she had become involved in activities such as "Teens for the Environment" and our school's student council. She also took an interest in unconventional art mediums such as food and scrap metal, and took a firm stance in favour of feminism.

Mello had joked, after Linda had brushed by us in the art hallway with her hair in multiple braids and her brown flip-flops making an audible _schwick_ sound as she walked with renewed purpose, that I had all but turned her lesbian.

At the time, I had punched him as hard I could in the shoulder and told him to shut up.

I don't think she's ever really forgiven me for what happened, but then I again, neither had I. My shame was probably what made me hesitate where others might have gone on ahead as if they had nothing to hide in the face of Mello's questions at breakfast the other day, but my few events of having been kissed in my younger teens (he already knew about the incident with Linda, but who at school hadn't? It didn't count, however; spin the bottle and truth or dare game induced kissing was obligatory and in my experience, entirely unpleasant) were not something I was too proud of.

Over all, the experience was just something that Mello and I had agreed was better if we acted like it had never happened.

As for Linda, it appeared she hadn't gotten the memo – because she obviously still hated my guts for the public embarrassment she had undergone because of me.

I just had terrible luck with girls.

Now that I thought about it, I couldn't exactly fault Mello for not disclosing information about his relationships because I hadn't ever really filled him in on mine either. Not that I'd ever dated extensively, but I had a pretty average amount of experience – and I mostly kept that to myself. It just felt somehow wrong to talk about that sort of thing with him.

Obviously, he must feel the same way because the number of relationships he was rumoured to have had was exponentially larger than the number that I knew about.

Whatever – I suppose it doesn't matter.

The bell by the door chimed, cutting into my thoughts. In the off chance that it was the owner back from his trip to the bank, I immediately crouched behind the counter and began sorting the movies in the drop-off box like I was the epitome of productivity. Near, who had been actually doing his job this entire time, shot me a look and I stuck my tongue out at him in retaliation. With a roll of his eyes, he brought his attention back to the task at hand.

Yeah, that's right. You better look away.

As I didn't hear the sound of Linda racing across the store to make sure she was there on time to prostrate herself in front of him and kiss his shoes (an exaggeration by no small means, but she is still a little brown-noser), I realized that it probably wasn't the owner. Instead I heard loud footfalls approaching the counter, as if the person was wearing heavy footwear. Wait –

The person proceeded to smack the buzzer on the counter a bunch of times and I hit my head on the counter in my haste to get up.

As my vision swam, a familiar chuckle greeted my ears.

I got up slowly, holding onto the counter for support.

Of course, the image that greeted me was of a certain blond leaning casually against the counter with one finger still poised above the buzzer. If possible, the leather that he was decked head to toe in was even tighter than usual, as if he was seeing just how much he could manage without losing all blood circulation. The sunglasses he was wearing obscured his eyes, but the tooth-baring smirk that he was donning spoke volumes.

Fuckin' Mello.

I couldn't help the shit-eating grin that spread across my face.

He looked at me over the rim of his sunglasses. "Hey, Game Boy," he drawled. "Is that a DS in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?"

Laughing, I punched him half-heartedly in the arm. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Around." The smile he gave me was cryptic.

Just at that moment, Near popped up beside me. I noticed that he had finished sorting and was ready to push the cart full of movies out and restock the shelves.

"I know that you two are perfectly at ease with your strange relationship," – he eyed Mello's attire with thinly veiled disgust – "but can you wait until I have left the area to start up with your pseudo-homosexual banter?"

Mello smiled serenely and then flipped him the bird with a finger tipped with black nail polish. "Bite me, bitch."

Near snorted with derision. "Forgive me for not leaping at the chance; I might catch something."

The albino then shuffled off with the cart, muttering something about how Mello dressed worse than his older brother.

Now that was quite an accomplishment.

Farley River – known around here as "Far" as a play off of his younger brother's nickname – was an international supermodel. He had been in the same Grade as Light and L back when they were in high school, and it was in their Senior year that he had been spotted by a scout and offered a contract (Misa still had sour grapes about that; it had been her dream to be a model, as well, and instead she had been snubbed for a "pretty boy" as she called him). Even before he had gotten the contract, Far had been a celebrity around town; with his black hair, blue eyes, and natural charm he had captivated most of the female population. The whole town 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed when Far started appearing in commercials. He rose to fame quickly, and our small town buzzed with the knowledge that such a star came from our humble beginnings.

That's when the nude photos started showing up on the internet.

The supermarket checkout shelves were dominated with magazines bearing Far's photo and increasingly racy headlines. Every time Near came across one of these magazines, he got this dark, prudish look on his face. Needless to say, the whole town was scandalized – but on the international level, Far became a legend. At the age of twenty-one, he was still strutting up and down the catwalks of Tokyo and London like it was the only profession worth doing. Our town was forgotten – as well as Near. On his last birthday, all Near had gotten from his older brother was an unsigned card and a cheque for fifty dollars.

Yet another boy from our town with a reputation that proceeded him.

Mello beamed; I think he took Near's insult as some twisted form of a compliment.

To make matters worse, Linda also decided to butt her way in at that moment.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. What are _you_ doing here?"

Mello pulled a face at me to show what he thought of the girl's presence, and then turned around to face her. There was only a smile on his face as he replied, "Why, renting a movie, my dear Linda."

Her hands were placed on her hips, and I knew at once that getting out of this would not be easy. "Then show me the movie."

Mello looked entirely underwhelmed by her attempt at intimidation. "'Haven't got to that yet. I came over to say hello to Matt, and he ended up hitting his head pretty hard on the counter. I think he might have a concussion; I should probably take him to get checked out by a professional."

Catching on, I proceeded to look off into the distance and kept blinking as if I couldn't focus my eyes properly. I swayed slightly on my feet for effect.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Her tone was saturated with incredulity.

"Just check the security tapes if you don't believe me. Besides, just look at how out of it he is!"

They both turned to look at me and I kept from meeting either of their eyes as if I wasn't even aware that they had been talking about me.

Linda deadpanned. "He looks the same as always."

… I resent that.

Still, I swallowed my retort and continued to try my best to keep up the ruse.

A few more moments of silence past while they examined my pretty-much-perfect impression of a zombie before Linda finally conceded. She probably just didn't want to get in trouble from the owner if I actually did have a concussion and ended up throwing up or keeling over later. Whether we had tricked her or not, we had gotten away with it.

Mello helped me out of the store and around to the back where Linda couldn't see us through the windows before he let me walk by myself. We reached his motorcycle and burst out into laughter.

Giddy with energy and feeling like we were in grade school again, I asked him, "What's next?"

He tossed a helmet at me and arched a brow with a smirk. "You have been formally invited to my house for a family dinner."

Now, that was the last thing I had been expecting…

I hopped on the bike behind him despite my surprise.

Never a dull moment, that's for sure.


	7. You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie

**Suggested Listening: **_"You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie"_ - The Submarines

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie~**

Mello's house was a few blocks over from my house, and on the other side of the park. It was distinguishable from the sea of beige houses around it by its periwinkle-blue siding and the immaculate, sprawling garden in front of it. Mello's dad's prized lawn gnome collection was the first thing I saw when we pulled up; five little, ceramic men of varying colour lined up along the pathway to the house, each of them with a hand raised in perpetual greeting.

Mello snorted when he turned around from taking off his helmet and saw what I was looking at. I just stuck my tongue out at him in response. He just wouldn't admit that the lawn ornaments gave him the creeps.

Another feature of Mello's front yard that I had fond memories of was the tire swing hanging from the old weeping willow tree. Many hours of our youths had been spent swinging in that tire. I especially remember the times that we got bored and took turns spinning each other so fast that it was a wonder that neither of us puked. Of course, that ended after we had decided to give Mello's younger sister, Miranda, a turn in retaliation for when she had tattled on us. She had been so dizzy afterwards that she had walked right into the fence. Mello's mother had not been amused.

I smiled as the memories of my childhood came flooding back to me. I followed Mello as he took the stairs onto the porch, and then we went inside.

As soon as we opened the door, my senses were assaulted by a cornucopia of aromas. Among them, I could distinguish the sweet scent of melted chocolate. Apparently, Mello had noticed this too because he made a bee-line for the kitchen as soon as he had removed his boots. Having already removed my sneakers, I followed right behind him, shrugging off the over-shirt that I wore for work as I went.

I came into the kitchen just in time to see Mello try to dip a finger into the cooling pot of chocolate on the stove as covertly as possible – only to come away empty-handed as his mother whipped around and smacked him swiftly on the wrist with the wooden spoon she was brandishing.

Mello made a big show of looking wounded; he pouted at her and rubbed at his wrist.

"None of that, young man," Mrs. Keehl chided. "Tuck that lip back in or you'll be getting nothing at all."

Mello heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes over his shoulder at me as if it was oh so very clear how much he was suffering, and that I must agree with him that his mother was being unfair. Quicker than I could blink, the wooden spoon came at him again and he narrowly dodged it. However, it appeared this was only a feint because as Mello turned, she swatted at him from the other side with the salad prongs and they connected with his backside.

Mello jumped in surprise, the look on his face quite comical, and I couldn't help but laugh.

Mrs. Keehl turned around then and smiled. "Oh, hello, Matt. I didn't even know that you were here."

I grinned. "No worries; I just got here."

Mello's mom continued on smiling at me for a moment and I could tell that she was examining me in that way that people do when they're surprised by how much you've grown. Of course, she had seen me not too long ago – but I could tell that's not what she was thinking about. She still saw Mello and me as the havoc-raising kids that we had been what felt to us like so long ago. For her, it really wasn't that long ago – and maybe that held more truth than our own perceptions.

I held her cerulean gaze – so like Mello's own – and just smiled back.

She returned to making the salad, but she carried on talking. "I'm very happy that you could make it out here tonight. I've been pestering Mello to get you out here for the past week, but he told me that you've been busy with work."

I quirked an eyebrow at this and turned my gaze on Mello. "He did, did he?"

Mello stared back at me, his expression schooled and a cool look of unrepentance in his eyes.

"Is that not true?" Mrs. Keehl asked.

"Halfway," I replied. "I've been busy spending time with my girlfriend."

I flicked my eyes back over to Mello to gauge his reaction, but he looked just as unconcerned as before.

Weird...

"Oh! Well, that's good. You'll have to introduce us sometime." Before I could reply, she turned on the sink to wash her hands. She turned around to face me once more while she dried her hands. "Can you two run upstairs and call everyone down? I have everything ready."

Mello was already making his way out of the room before she had finished speaking. Mrs. Keehl's lips curled into an amused smile, quirking an eyebrow at me. I looked between her and Mello's retreating form before giving an apologetic shrug of my shoulders. I hadn't the slightest idea what that had been about.

Mrs. Keehl tilted her head to the side, that knowing smile still in place. Obviously, she didn't believe me. I felt heat slowly rise to my face as my level of discomfort heightened.

Sensing a stalemate, I turned on my heel and walked swiftly out of the kitchen. The sound of laughter followed me out.

There's nothing worse than someone with the attitude that they know exactly what's going on between you and another third-party person – except when you have no idea what that person thinks they know.

Mrs. Keehl was the master of that.

His blond hair, blue eyes, and lean bone structure weren't the only thing that Mello got from his mother; Geneviève Keehl – as the mother of four children that knew how to get into trouble – knew your next move before you'd even formulated it yourself. This, of course, had made pulling pranks quite the difficult thing. Thankfully, even back when we were children, Mello had adored a challenge.

Needless to say, some of our schemes had gotten a little out of hand… and had resulted in quite a lot of groundings.

Still to this day, I can say with complete confidence that it was all totally worth it.

But I digress…

Just as I reached the upstairs landing, I saw Mello disappear into his sisters' room. As I made a move to follow him down the hallway, I felt something furiously bat at my head. Surprised, I jumped sideways and looked up. Two slitted, green eyes peered down at me from the top of the bookcase against the wall, paw extended and tail swishing.

I glared up at it. Damn cat…

Behind me, I heard a chuckle before Mello appeared at my side. "Is Jazz bothering you?"

I smoothed down my mussed hair. "You could say that."

The grey tabby stretched before winding around the bookends, purring and generally looking very satisfied with himself.

Mello extended his arms and the cat daintily jumped down. Nuzzled against the blond's chest, the cat's purring gained volume until it sounded like a small motor. Mello scratched Jazz behind the ears and the tabby rubbed his head under Mello's chin affectionately. The cat opened his eyes as he turned around in Mello's arms to regard me; I could swear there was a distinctly smug look there.

The blond next to me wore a nearly identical expression to the cat in his arms as he smirked at me. "Good kitty."

I snorted, feigning hurt feelings. "That cat could wrap itself around my legs and trip me down the stairs one of these days, and you would be more concerned for its well-being than my own."

Mello just smiled, ignoring my comment. "C'mon, Matt. I've already told everyone about dinner. Let's go downstairs."

With that, the blond turned on his heel and trotted back down the stairs. Jazz's eyes glittered at me from over Mello's shoulder, and the cat gave a great yawn which put his fangs on display quite nicely.

I narrowed my eyes at it warily.

I repeat: damn cat.

Once more we were walking into the kitchen, except this time it was the view of the mountain of food on the already set table that greeted us. Mrs. Keehl was standing next to it, leaning over to put the last touches on. She set a vase of flowers in the center before turning around and clapping her hands once while a grin stretched across her face.

"Good! You two are just on time."

Mello set the cat down and it bounded over to its bowl in the corner to chow down on the food that had been recently placed there. "It's amazing that you can still enjoy cooking when it's all you do for work all day," he said.

Mrs. Keehl laughed. "Besides your father, cooking is the love of my life. Just because you don't enjoy cooking doesn't mean that it isn't worthwhile for others."

Mello shrugged and went to sit down. I couldn't help but smirk as I followed his lead.

Mello loved food – or at least anything with chocolate in it – but he wasn't very good at making it. One semester we took Foods together because Near was taking it, and Mello was determined to get better grades than him in all of his classes (a challenge that Near wasn't even particularly aware of, but still ended up winning most of the time anyways). Cooking was something that I thought of as a necessity rather than a hobby, as the nights that my mother had to work late I always ended up making supper. Because of my experience, I usually did pretty well in the class.

On the other hand, Mello somehow managed to burn salad.

We still don't speak of that incident to this day.

Mello's father happened to walk in just as we were sitting down. Whereas Mello was fair-haired, Alois Keehl had dark brown hair that was beginning to thin and turn grey. Furthermore, he was probably the tallest man I knew while Mello, on the other hand, was of average height. He was also pretty broad in the shoulders. Next to him, Mello's mother looked tiny in comparison.

Mr. Keehl stopped to kiss his wife on the forehead before taking his place at the head of the table.

A commotion on the stairs signalled that the rest of the family was coming down. A moment later, Miranda and Rosette, Mello's younger sisters tromped in. Behind them came Nicolai and his fiancée, Francine.

Miranda stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of me sitting at the table. She stomped – yes, actually _stomped _– her foot and scowled. "What's he doing here?"

"Who? This guy?" Mello inquired in a bored tone, making a show of examining his nails. "I've been wondering that myself. 'Must've wandered in off the street."

I turned in my seat and quirked an eyebrow at him. All Mello did was look up and flash me a toothy grin.

Realizing that she wasn't going to get a serious response from her older brother, Miranda turned to her mother. "It's not fair," she whined. "You said that this was a family dinner, so I couldn't have my friend over tonight."

Nicolai and Francine shared a look that clearly said, "I'm staying out of this," and then they simultaneously sat down.

Before Mrs. Keehl could get a word in, Rosette was piping up from behind her fourteen-year-old sister, "Matt's here because he _is _family. _Duh_."

She then proceeded to drag her sister by the arm to the table and force her to sit down. Miranda glared at the empty plate in front of her and crossed her arms.

I drummed my fingers on the table top and looked around.

Well… This is kind of awkward…

To my left, Mello looked overtly amused by his sister's whining. Meanwhile, on my other side, Francine seemed to be feeling just about as uncomfortable as I was at the moment. Nicolai was probably the only one that didn't seem to be moved either way, ever the unflappable eldest sibling in a house with three other children that have big personalities.

Sometimes I wonder how he keeps his sanity.

Mrs. Keehl rubbed at her temples before shooting me an apologetic look. "Let's eat, shall we?"

"Yes, let's. Thank you, dear," Mr. Keehl said as he reached for one of the dishes.

It was quiet for a few minutes as we filled our plates.

"Mihael, can you please lead us in prayer?" Mrs. Keehl asked, folding her hands in front of her.

Mello put the bowl he was holding back on the table. "Sure. What will it be tonight: French, Latin, or, German?" There was a mischievous glint in his eyes – nothing out of the ordinary.

Multilingual bastard.

Mr. Keehl snorted and shared a look of amusement with his wife.

"How about English so that we can all understand?" Mrs. Keehl's smile was indulgent.

The blond nudged me with his elbow. "Matt can understand French," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Unless he slept through all of those classes..."

I just rolled my eyes at him.

Mello flashed me another grin before bowing his head. His hand went for the rosary that he kept around his neck, and his entire demeanor changed. Hair hanging around his face and eyes closed, his voice rang out in smooth, confident tones. One would never guess that French wasn't his first language. "_Laissez-nous prier_!"

Around me, everyone bowed their heads in prayer and folded their hands.

I did the same, feeling uncomfortable only for a moment.

Despite the fact that I didn't really know whether I believed in a god – let alone the One – the reverence in Mello's tone made it easy to understand why he did believe. It was nice to feel like there was something more, a reason that we were here. Even to feel like somebody cared, that somebody listened to your private thoughts and didn't judge. It was comforting, in a way, and a lot less bleak than the alternative.

When everyone said Amen, my voice was among theirs as I added my silent thanks.

The spell was broken a moment later as we raised our heads and began eating.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

After dinner, Mello and I offered to do the dishes. Mrs. Keehl thanked us before going off to talk with Miranda about the misunderstanding that had occurred earlier. The kitchen, which had been filled with chatter during dinner, was all but silent now except for the sound of running water as Mello filled the sink. We put what we could into the dishwasher before submerging the pans into the water.

We worked in the comfortable quiet for a few minutes, and I got through drying two pans before anything was said.

"You know," I started. "High-school French is useless. I don't think I understood three-quarters of what you said."

Mello's expression was absolutely wicked. "I'm quite aware. Which is why instead of a prayer, I told an elaborate dirty joke about you. After you leave, we will probably laugh about it."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "... You didn't."

He blinked innocently. "How would you know? I could have said all manner of dirty things and you would be none the wiser."

I stuck my tongue out at him before returning my attention to the task at hand. Quicker than a flash, Mello wound up his towel and snapped it at my ass. I jumped and he laughed at my scandalized expression.

Mello's mom walked into the kitchen right after, and I hoped that she hadn't heard any of that conversation.

She paused on her way through and I held my breath. She turned around to face me and I tried to release the pent-up air in my lungs as discreetly as possible.

"Matt, I've been meaning to ask you..." she began. "How is your mother doing? Angela hasn't been at the book club meetings these last few weeks..."

"She's been taking on extra shifts at work again. She says she feels antsy," I replied.

There was understanding showing in her eyes as she said, "I see. In that case, could you maybe ask her to phone me sometime next week? I would phone myself, but if her work hours are erratic..."

I nodded. "Sure. I can do that."

My mother and her weren't as close as Mello and I were, but they were still good friends. If anyone would understand the changes in my mother's moods, it would be this woman.

She smiled brightly and I could hear the relief in her tone. "Good." She made to leave once more, but stopped again. "Feel free to stay over tonight, if you want. You are always welcome here."

Mrs. Keehl left, and then it was just Mello and I in the kitchen again.

Mello placed the last pan back in the cupboard and then let the water out. His tone was strangely void of any of its earlier playfulness as he asked, "Do you want to stay tonight?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes for some reason and I was left feeling confused. "Sure."

Mello moved past me and walked towards the archway, only to stop in it.

"Or should I say..." – he looked back at me, eyes glittering as a reckless smirk took its rightful place on his lips – "_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir_?"

With that, the blond sauntered out of the room and I was left standing there as my face swiftly turned a shade of red that would make tomatoes jealous.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The rest of the night was spent goofing around, playing video games (Mello even beat me at a few rounds of Mario Kart, which he would not stop gloating about), and showing each other stupid things on the internet on Mello's laptop. We eventually decided to put a movie in, and at some point Miranda and Rosette found their way into Mello's room, and we all ended up squished together on the queen-sized bed.

There wasn't any indication that Miranda was angry anymore, as she joked around with us and nudged Mello in the ribs when she deemed that he had surpassed his quota of big-brother-annoyingness for the day. I thought nothing of it really; Miranda had always been much more sensitive than her other siblings. Her outburst at supper had probably been caused by some other issue in her life.

The thing was, Miranda always felt the role of the "middle child" much more than Mello did. Even though Nicolai was usually successful in all that he did, Mello never felt resentful. Instead, Mello had carved out his own niche within his family and excelled in the ways that suited what he wanted to do with his life. The only time where Mello's inferiority complex truly reared its ugly head was when it came to being bested in school.

Damn the teacher in elementary school that decided posting our grades would keep us motivated. It sure made Mello motivated – but it also made Near a target for jealousy and antagonism from the blond.

I don't know where the insecurity that lead to their rivalry was rooted in, but it definitely wasn't in Mello's family life. Even when he was at his most stressed out, I remember him always being able to relax at home. I think Miranda would feel better if she shared what was bothering her with her family; maybe then she wouldn't feel so down on herself.

In the end, though, it's her choice. Everyone has to carve their own path.

We ended up pausing the movie somewhere in the middle and heading downstairs on an expedition to get popcorn. A few minutes were also wasted in cleaning up the mess that had occurred from when the popcorn maker had started spewing out popcorn so fast that a lot of it missed the bowl entirely and ended up on the floor. Some of it might have also ended up on the floor from the four of us throwing it at each other, but who's to say…

It had already been dark outside for quite a while when we finally finished the movie, and Rosette's constant yawning was what finally made the decision for Mello.

"Alright, you two – out," he said, making a shooing motion with his hands as he stood up.

Miranda left with no complaint after she got up from the beanie bag chair she had migrated to at some point, yawning as she went and giving us both a wave. Rosette, however, was another story.

The ten-year-old narrowed her eyes at him from where she was sprawled in the center of the bed, clutching the majority of the pillows to her chest. "Make me."

Mello, of course, did exactly that. Rosette kicked and squirmed in the blond's iron grip as he carried her over to the door, but it was in vain. As soon as she was set back on her feet, she was placing her hands on her hips and glowering up at him.

"Not fair."

Mello chuckled. "Way fair."

Rosette huffed.

"Come on. I have work tomorrow, and so does Matt. I'll see you tomorrow, kiddo." Mello gave her hair an affectionate ruffle and that was all it took to put a smile back on her face and put her in an agreeable mood.

"Good night," she chirped before leaning around him to give me an energetic wave. As soon as she was gone, Mello shut the door and leaned against it, heaving a sigh.

I laughed and Mello's lips curled into a tired smile.

He walked back over to the bed then and started grabbing some of the pillows and tossing them on the floor. I watched him, wondering what he was up to, when he went over to the closet and pulled out an extra blanket. It shared the same fate that the pillows did, ending up in a crumpled heap on the carpet.

"What are you doing?" I inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he shot back, not bothering to look up as he arranged the objects he had just placed on the floor. "I'm making a bed for myself."

"Why?" I asked. "It's not like we've never slept in the same bed before." Besides, I silently added, I would feel like a dick if I forced you to sleep on the floor.

Mello did look up then and there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes along with something else that I couldn't place. "… Are you sure?"

"Positive," I said, crossing my arms behind my head. I was the image of nonchalance.

He shrugged, but I noted the tension and stiffness in how he carried out the motion. "Okay. Fine."

The pillows were tossed back onto the bed and the blanket returned to the closet before Mello left the room to go get changed. While he was gone, I stepped out of my jeans and set my goggles on the dresser. I opted to keep my t-shirt on despite how hot it was right now.

I could continue to deny that sleeping in the same bed meant anything, but I knew better than to go shirtless. He'd seemed uncomfortable about it, anyways; I didn't want to freak him out any further.

Mello came back a few minutes later with his hair pulled back into an elastic, donning a baggy, black t-shirt that he would've never worn for anything other than sleeping in.

He snorted when he saw me. "I almost forgot that your eyes are brown."

"So did I," I joked.

A roll of his eyes was the response I got along with a half-hearted whack on the shoulder. "Dork."

I grinned wolfishly. "Would you have me any other way?"

His answering smile was surprisingly soft, but that could be chalked up to his state of exhaustion. "I suppose not."

The lights were turned off then, and a few moments were spent getting situated in the bed. Finally, the rustling of the blankets ceased and everything was still. I very quickly became aware of just how close we were to each other, but there wasn't any room to move farther apart. The muscles in my side closest to him tensed with the effort of making sure I did not move and accidently brush him.

Okay. I was wrong. This was _nothing_ like the other times we shared a bed when we were younger.

I turned on my side to face the window and shut my eyes tight, willing sleep to come soon.


	8. Deadbeat Summer

**A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, fav'd, and subscribed! As always, thanks for reading, too. It's much appreciated :)**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Deadbeat Summer"_ - Neon Indian

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Deadbeat Summer~**

As our town sleepily dragged its feet into midsummer, the heat only got worse. Before, it had been uncomfortable, but at least tolerable. As things were now, however, I could probably fry an egg on the roof of my mom's car. Regardless, people went outside in droves.

Frankly, I thought they were insane (never mind the fact that I was impartial to the outdoors in the first place).

I'd never liked the heat very much and the way that my t-shirt clung to my back with a disgusting layer of sweat didn't help. My room had pretty much become an oven, and so while I'd usually be in there playing a video game or surfing the web on my second-hand laptop, I had taken to spending time in the garage to escape the heat.

Although I hadn't taken up Watari on the offer to help him out with his inventions in exchange for parts yet, I continued to work on my car. There was only so much that I could do as a lot of the car's inner workings were beyond repair, so I spent the time preparing it for when I'd be able to install the new, functioning parts.

When Mello had found out what I had been doing, he had pretended to be angry, saying, "You'd better not finish it without me being there to see it. God knows how you've slaved over that thing... I want to be the first to see the finished product."

I had promised him that he would be – but that's where the problem lies.

Mello worked at his father's store that sold leather products, acting as the salesperson and occasionally manning the cashier. He loved his job and always got a kick out of telling people that he worked in the family business, leaving it open for them to guess what exactly that business could be. Because most people we had gone to school with were gullible and hopelessly prone to gossiping, everyone had decided that his family was affiliated with the Mafia. Just like all of the other rumours about him, Mello never said a word to confirm or deny it.

Anyways – now to how this relates.

The store had been unusually busy the past few days, meaning that he hadn't been able to come over. A promise is a promise, and so I held off on getting the new parts despite how eager I was to finish my pet project.

Fortunately, today was the day when Mello said he finally might be able to stop by. He hadn't specified a time, but I had assumed that it would be later in the afternoon when he would show up. Currently, it was noon, but I still left the garage door open on the off chance that he might show up earlier.

At the moment, I was continuing my preparations and revising my mental list of exactly what would have to be replaced. Whoever had been the previous owner had done a number on it, that's for sure.

Heat seemed to radiate into my sanctuary at an increasingly alarming rate the longer I left the garage door open. Pretty soon, it became too much and I shut the hood, deciding to take a break and hunt down a tall glass of water to gulp down. Before I went to do that, however, I yanked my t-shirt that was now streaked with oil and sweat over my head and tossed it carelessly towards the workbench. I then pushed up my goggles and wiped at my eyes.

My God... Any more of this heat and I swear that I will melt.

Pulling my goggles back down to their rightful place, I tromped indoors to get that glass of water. Thankfully, my mother was at work and therefore not home to question why I had come in from outside without a shirt. Who knows; if she were, she might not have even noticed. Even if she did, she might assume that I in all of my scatterbrained glory had simply forgotten it somewhere.

Surely a viable option if not for the fact that I wasn't usually one to peel off clothes in public places.

I ended up draining my first glassful and headed back to the sink for another. I watched the water cascade from the facet and sighed.

The past week had been strange.

If not talking to Mello at all had been out of the ordinary, then him calling every night of the week was a cause for alarm. Mello never did anything half-assed, but if this was his version of making up for his absence, I was of the mind to tell him to tone it down a bit.

I'm sure that would go over well.

Besides contemplating if my best friend had been taken over by a pod person, I also had to explain to Wedy why the phone line was always busy when she tried to call – which, by the way, also happened every night of the week.

Between the two of them, I think I have spent more time on the phone in the past week than I have in my whole life.

I remembered an incident a few days ago where Wedy called to talk about the university she was going to and I had stood there in the kitchen for a good forty minutes inserting the occasional _mhm_ and _I see_ as that was all she gave me time to say. I hadn't been all that bothered because I knew she was excited that she had been accepted into the psychology program, but I had been finding it hard to concentrate on what she was saying because I had had a particularly taxing day at work, and my eyes had kept sliding over to the kitchen table where my supper had been getting cold.

Also, my mother had been sitting there the whole time, watching me and stifling giggles.

Finally, she had let me go and I had put the phone back in its cradle with a sense of relief – only to have that dashed when the stupid thing started ringing again. Grumbling to myself, I had picked it up and put on a cheery tone. When I had realized who it was, I hadn't had to keep up the façade anymore, but I still had felt a twinge of exasperation.

"Who is it?" my mother had mouthed to me.

I had covered the mouth piece with my hand and whispered back, "Mello."

She had snorted then before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. I had glared at her, continuing to talk to Mello, but we both knew that I had caught the smile lingering on her lips as she had innocently continued to eat.

It wasn't that I resented the increased amount of conversation, but – with Mello especially – it was so out of line with their usual behaviour. Wedy, for example, was more likely to text me or see me in person, but since she had been busy with arranging for her housing for when she would go to university in the fall, she hadn't been able to see me the past while either. Her excitement over the changes in her life was understandable, and I guess she just wanted to share it with me and actually hear my reaction… but I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions all of a sudden.

As for Mello, if I was being honest, things had been different between us for quite a while now and this was just another point on the growing list.

I was actually really happy that I was seeing Mello today because, before I had found out that he was busy with work, I'd thought he was feeling awkward after the night that I had stayed over. Then the calls had started, and I had pushed the worries to the back of my mind.

… However, they still pop up at the most inopportune times.

Realizing I had just been staring into the water glass in front of me for the past few minutes, I picked it up and threw the contents down my throat. I put it in the sink when I was finished and then leaned against the counter, staring at nothing in particular as I examined my recollection of that day.

Thankfully, I always slept like the dead until noon while Mello liked to beat the sun in being first to rise; this meant that there had been no uncomfortable moment of waking up at the same time and remembering why the other person was across from you in the bed. However, all possibility of an awkward moment was not evaded, as I had ended up waking up after Mello had just gotten back from his morning run and he was over by the closet, taking off his shirt.

"Um," I had articulated in a most-intelligent manner.

He had frozen in place, shirt halfway over his head, before he had yanked it back down. The blush turning his cheeks a bright red hue was so uncharacteristic that I half-wondered if it was leftover from his run, but his body language betrayed his mortification.

It's a rare moment that Mello's ever caught off guard, that's for sure.

If that wasn't enough, what he had said next had only confirmed it: "Shit." His tone had been completely flat, but by the shock that had shown in his eyes, I could tell it was carefully controlled. "I didn't know you were awake yet."

Remembering the line of his shoulder blades in the moment I had caught him pulling his shirt over his head, I felt like something reached into my stomach and tied my innards into a knot. I pushed my goggles up and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Fuck," I groaned. "Fuck fuckity fuck fuck…"

Through the open window, I could hear the sound of a motorcycle approaching from down the street.

… Perfect timing.

Kicking off from the counter, I walked back to the garage. Sure enough, as soon as I opened the door, my suspicions were confirmed as the glint of the sun off of metal and leather caught my eye. Upon closer inspection, however, the hair was much too long and the wrong shade of blond.

"Hey, Matt!" Wedy grinned as she hopped off her bike and pulled off her leather jacket. "'Thought I'd come over since I've kind of been neglecting you lately."

… Oh. Okay, then…

Quickly adapting, I returned her smile with one of my own and trotted down the steps to meet her. "No worries."

I stopped right in front of her and she reached out and poked my bicep, chuckling. "I always thought you were just lanky, but it looks like you have some muscles, too. Looking pretty fly… for a white guy." She waggled her eyebrows at me.

Oh, yeah… That's right… I have no shirt on. Great…

Snorting, I rubbed at the back of my neck and proceeded to compensate for my discomfort in the only way I knew how: snark. "Isn't that Near's catchphrase?" I quipped. "Besides, I'm allergic to the sun and any element of the outdoors; prolonged exposure gives me a rash."

She smirked. "Attractive."

I shrugged. "'Just telling it like it is."

"You're such a dork," she said, giving me an affectionate swat on the shoulder. Moving past me, she walked over to the gutted out Camaro. "Is this the car? Matt, it'll be beautiful." She ran her hand along the side of it, and I remembered all the times I had done the same while I had stood beside it, imagining the potential.

I came up beside her. "It's what I'm working towards."

Wedy looked up at me then, and I was caught off guard as she started snickering. "Matt… Look what you have on your face."

I bent over to look in the side mirror, and sure enough, I had a streak of oil on my cheek.

To make use of Wedy's earlier comment: attractive.

I felt a finger under my chin, coaxing me to stand up straight again. As soon as I did, Wedy starting cleaning off my face with a rag she must have grabbed from off of the work bench. I stood still while she did so, but I kind of felt like I was a little kid again and my mother was cleaning off a mark on my face with her thumb and a bit of her saliva.

Still to this day I do not understand why people think that is anywhere near hygienic.

"There," Wedy said when she was finished. "Good as new."

"Am I fully operational?" I asked, smiling.

"I think so…" She made a show of inspecting me, her eyes going wide as if in sudden realization. "Ah! There's just one more thing."

Then she was leaning in and her lips pressed against mine.

The few times that I had kissed Wedy in the weeks that we have been dating so far, there was always that moment of surprise and a jolt of panic. It was less than before this time, but I wondered when that feeling was supposed to go away. Aren't most people excited when they get kissed? Was I just malfunctioning or something (robot pun not intended)?

First of all, I never knew where to put my hands. I'd figured out by trial and error that Wedy liked it when they rested on her waist, and that was where I tentatively placed them now. Then there was the whole thing where I felt like I might break her; not to say that Wedy was breakable in the first place, but rather that she was just felt so soft and slight under my hands. I wasn't too sure I liked the taste of her lip gloss or the overpowering scent of her hairspray either.

I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually.

From somewhere, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke into my thoughts and my eyes popped open. I pulled back immediately. Wedy quirked an eyebrow at me before craning her neck and showing the same expression to whomever it was that had interrupted us.

I looked towards the mouth of the garage and my mind registered two things: pursed lips and eyes that glittered like ice.

I swallowed.

Shit.

Mello tilted his head to the side in an almost innocent manner, leaning against the wall casually. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Wedy said _yes _at exactly the same time that I said _no_ – which would have been really funny if not for the fact that I felt like I was ten seconds away from getting mauled by one person and bitch-slapped by another.

Wedy whipped her head around to look at me.

Make that five seconds…

I put my hands up in front of me in a feeble attempt at protection. "Look, this is going to sound really cliché, but I can explain."

Mello smirked as if to say _go on_, while Wedy just crossed her arms and looked at me expectantly.

I rubbed at the back of my neck. "Right – um," I began. "See, I initially invited Mello over to see the car and then Wedy showed up unexpectedly… But since you're both here now, why don't we just all hang out? I mean, it's not like the car's gonna go anywhere…"

In that moment, brief explanation over and looking between them, I wondered why I even had to explain myself. Had I really done anything wrong?

Mello shrugged (which was the closest to a confirmation I was probably going to get) and Wedy nodded, but I could tell she wasn't happy about it.

Well, they certainly seemed to think I had.

"I'm going to get on a shirt, and then I'll be right back. You guys think about what we should do while I'm gone," I told them, putting on a false, cheery tone.

I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Just as I was turning to leave, I caught the expression on their faces as their eyes met.

Something told me that they'd be talking about a lot more than what activity we'd be doing next.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

We ended up deciding on going to the park because my room was a mess (and without saying anything, I think we all knew that being trapped together in the confined spaces of my house wasn't the best idea).

I walked along with the two blonds on either side of me, hands shoved into my pockets. Nobody said a word, but I could tell they were both steaming over the conversation that had taken place when I had been out of the room. I didn't really understand what their deal was; weren't they supposed to be friends?

My sneakers scuffed over the pavement as I kicked at a pineapple weed growing through the cracks of the sidewalk.

_Step on a crack, and you'll break your mother's–_

I chewed on my chapped bottom lip absentmindedly, jonesing for a cigarette.

The sound of children excitedly shouting signalled that we had arrived at the park. There was a group of them playing ball tag on the jungle gym, and so we went to sit down in the shade of the gazebo. We sat down on the floor facing each other since sitting on wood planks seemed like a much better idea than sitting on the metal benches in this heat.

Mello stretched out one of his legs in front of him, keeping the other one bent, and fanned himself lazily with his gloves. "Fuck me, it's hot," he muttered.

The corner of Wedy's mouth twitched and she narrowed her eyes. "'Funny that you're complaining since you're already wearing so little."

I busied myself with studying the grain of the wood we were sitting on.

I could hear the sneer in his tone as Mello replied, "It's the leather; it traps the heat." I felt his eyes on me and looked up. His eyebrow rose in a perfect arch. "Isn't that what you always tell me, Matt?"

I sputtered, "Well, I – uh." I cleared my throat and restarted. "It's true. First of all, it's black leather, so it would have an albedo that would be close to zero. Since it's absorbing so much light energy, you would feel it as heat. Then, the properties of the material itself make it so that it will heat up quickly and cool down just as fast. I'm not sure what its specific heat capacity is… Anyways – there you go."

They both just stared at me for a moment.

I blinked.

Suddenly, they started laughing.

"Nerd," they said in tandem, realized what they just had done, and almost immediately stopped laughing altogether. The look in their eyes read surprise as they held the gaze of the other before they both looked away.

"So…" Wedy started in an attempt to change the subject. She sat up a little straighter and a smile spread across her face. "What do you two have planned for the future?"

Mello gestured for me to go first with a nearly imperceptible nod.

"Something to do with computers, I suppose," I answered. I picked at the frayed ends of my jeans, wishing I'd brought my smokes with me.

She laughed. "'Seems like you. What school were you thinking of going to for that?"

I shrugged.

Wedy seemed to deflate a little.

"I had this dream when I was younger," Mello admitted suddenly. "I wanted to go to school in Europe and see all the places that I had read about in books. I want to be an author, see," he explained. "I wanted to understand those authors better by going to those places, by seeing the things that they themselves had seen. I don't have that dream anymore."

Wedy tilted her head to the side in curiosity. "Why not?"

He closed his eyes. "What's the point of understanding the past or thinking of the future if we don't get a grip on the present? Things have changed; I have other goals that are more important at the present time." His eyes slid open and looked right into hers, blue meeting blue. "Besides, if I go there now, I want my experience of it to be coloured by my own feelings – not by what some old, dead guy tells me I should think."

Mello's grin was feral, showing teeth. "I'm going to live my own way."

Wedy exhaled, staring right back at him.

It dissolved into silence after that. I don't think either Wedy or I could think of a viable response to what he'd just said.

We were saved from it becoming too awkward, however, as music chimed in the distance. The children on the jungle gym halted, listening for a moment, before they climbed down and went running for the street. The three of us could clearly hear the tune now.

Ice-cream man.

Mello stood up and dusted himself off. "Well, as enlightening as I find your company, I'm going to have to leave you momentarily." He paused. "In other words: I'm getting ice cream, bitches. What flavour do you guys want?"

Wedy snorted. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I don't think they have that flavour," he remarked snidely.

"I'll have strawberry," I announced, beaming.

"Awesome. I'll be getting you vanilla; you lost your chance," Mello stated to Wedy before trotting off across the park.

Wedy watched him go, shaking her head. "He's crazy."

I laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, he kind of is."

I watched as Mello approached the truck, causing the children that were now enjoying their ice cream to back away as they saw him coming. Even from here, I could make out the slightly baffled look on the worker's face.

Wedy gave me a look. "No, I mean actually crazy. Why do you put up with him?"

I was jolted out of my train of thought by this and I frowned at her, affronted. "What do you mean? I thought you liked him. Didn't you two hang out all the time before?"

She sighed. "It's just… It's like he expects you to do whatever he wants all the time. Don't you get tired of it?"

Wedy pulled out her cigarettes and lit up, but I didn't bother asking for one now.

I glared at her. "What do you know?" I scoffed. "Don't talk like you understand anything about it when you don't."

She just looked at me then, and I immediately felt guilty.

I put a hand on her shoulder and softened my tone. "Look… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react like that. It's just… He's just Mello and I'm just me; this is the way we've been since forever. Don't look into it too much."

"Alright," she said – but I don't think she believed me.

I don't think I really believed me either.

Wedy's parents ended up texting her two minutes later and she got up, her jacket tucked under her arm.

"I have to go," she said, bending down to kiss my cheek. "'See you later, Red."

She started walking away, only to pause and call over her shoulder, "Tell Mello that I'm sorry he spent his money on me for no reason. Maybe you two can share it."

Mello came back just then, holding three ice cream cones and shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm as he watched Wedy disappear behind the line of hedges. "Where the hell is she going?"

"She had to go home," I said, and then repeated the rest of what she had told me to say.

Mello grunted, scowling all the same, and then sat down beside me. We ate our ice cream in a companionable silence until yet another noise disturbance caught our attention.

Over by the jungle gym, two of the older kids had ganged up on a boy and had thrown his ice cream in the dirt. We could hear the bullies' taunts as their victim started crying.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mello growled.

The blond stood up and stalked over to where the three of them were standing around. Mello must have cut an intimidating figure, because the instigators were already stumbling backwards as soon as they caught sight of him. I couldn't hear what Mello yelled at them, but it stopped them in their tracks.

The four of them stood there for a good five minutes; the guilty party looking like they were on the receiving end of the worst tongue-lashing of their lives, while the young boy was looking up at Mello like he was Superman. Scolding over, the older two ran off. I watched as Mello ruffled the kid's hair and then gave him our extra cone.

"That was nice of you," I said when he came back.

He frowned. "Whatever. It was melting all over my hand."

I just chuckled. "Sure, Mells. Whatever you say."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"Do you remember when we picked our nicknames?" Mello asked me on the walk back to my house.

"Yeah." I laughed. "Near was there."

He wrinkled his nose. "Unfortunately. Mine was for irony's sake, Near's because he's a creepy little bastard, and yours…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," I said.

"What was it that people used to call you?" he asked, suddenly changing the topic.

"Mailbox. Mail's not even pronounced like that, anyways…" I rolled my eyes. "And yours – well, they used to just butcher your real name."

Mello snorted. "Yeah. Nicknames were necessary… Hey."

I looked at him. "Yeah?"

He stopped and I realized it was because we were at my house. I need to pay more attention…

"I have tomorrow off, so I was wondering if you want to go out somewhere."

"Sure. Where did you have in mind?"

He winked and flashed me a disarming grin. "It's a secret. Just be at my house by eight."

Mello turned on his heel then to head back in the direction we had just came from, tossing a _don't be late!_ over his shoulder. I only noticed then that his bike wasn't parked anywhere nearby.

He must've walked over here. Furthermore, he had walked me home when he hadn't needed to; we could have just gone our separate ways in the park.

I smiled and went inside.

Wedy definitely didn't know what she was talking about.


	9. Tongue Tied

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews, guys! Your kind words really mean a lot to me :)**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Tongue Tied"_ - Grouplove **(lyrics in this chapter are from this song)**

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Tongue Tied~**

So, I ended up finding out the truth behind whether Mello goes commando.

… Indirectly! Not like – uh – that…

Let me explain.

I ended up getting to Mello's house right on time, which was a miracle in and of itself considering I have a penchant for being lazy. I had been worrying about what Mello had planned all day, so when it had come time to go, I was more than ready.

When I got there, Mello had still refused to tell me where we were going until we had made it upstairs to his room, away from his eavesdropping sisters. Once inside, Mello promptly threw a pair of leather pants at my head. I was in awe of my own ninja skillz when I actually managed to catch them.

"Put them on," was the command.

I blinked. "Can you at least tell me where we are going?"

He smiled and said, "Dancing," – as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Which leads me to how I ended up in the bathroom across the hallway, trying to stuff my supposedly skinny ass into a pair of leather pants that hugged all the wrong places (in my opinion; I like loose clothing that hides and conceals), secure in the knowledge that it was only _logical _that one would have to be going commando when wearing a death trap like these.

Because, seriously, as cool as my boxers with the one-up mushrooms on them are, they don't help the situation in any way.

"Matt," Mello called, rapping his knuckles on the door. "Are you okay in there?"

I gave another harsh tug, and wiggle as I might, the damn things didn't move an inch.

"Peachy keen, Mellybean," I called back in a sugary-sweet tone because I knew it would piss him off.

I could almost hear him twitch.

His voice was more strained as he asked, "Do you need any help?"

Instead of answering him, I tried again to pull them up, ended up stubbing my toe, and swore profusely.

"I'll take that as a _yes_."

I heard the doorknob start to turn and panicked. "No, don't!" I cried, my voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word.

Oh, God. You think you're done with voice cracks when you finish puberty – but no. They come back at the worst times to haunt you.

'Like when your best friend is forcing you to put on hooker pants in his bathroom.

Mello snickered.

Yeah, he definitely had heard that...

"Don't be a baby, Matt. I'm not going to look at your junk or anything; I'm just going to help you get the pants on."

I licked my lips nervously before calling back to him, "Fine."

The door creaked as it opened, and then there he was. He held my gaze in the mirror as he walked over to me, keeping his promise. I felt like he was approaching me like I was some sort of wounded animal or something – slowly, cautiously – but then again, I _was_ the one with my pants around my ankles.

What a pathetic state I had gotten myself into.

"Okay. First off, you're going to have to take them off and remove your boxers," he instructed with an entirely straight face as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather.

I nodded, but didn't move.

"It's okay, Matt," he coaxed. "I said I wouldn't look and I meant it."

I swallowed and then slowly did as I was told. I could feel my face heating up, hear the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, but I trusted him. Mello's eyes didn't stray from my face the entire time.

Then, they were both off and there was no turning back.

I looked up at the popcorn ceiling and heaved a sigh. "The rumours were true then, eh?"

"Which ones?" There was a weird note in his voice and my eyes flicked back down to him. I could have sworn I had seen panic in his eyes, but it was gone before I could be sure.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "The ones about your lack of underwear."

He chuckled and leaned against the counter. While he ran a hand through his hair, I started tugging the pants back on.

"Right," he said. "Those got started after that Halloween party in Junior year."

I squirmed and wriggled so much that Mello finally took pity on me and started helping me, laughing at my expense. Relieved, I took a break while he went at it, watching him in the mirror.

"That time you went dressed as Lady Gaga after you lost a bet with that Charlie kid?" I inquired.

I got a self-satisfied smirk in response and knew that I was right.

Charlie Garrigan had moved to our town from Australia at the start of that school year. He had been a source of gossip for our classmates not only because he talked a big game, but also because the girls had deemed him attractive. To be honest, I had found him hilarious with his mid-western accent (apparently he had only lived in Australia for a year) and his phony stories that made him out to be the next Crocodile Dundee. Mello had joined me in mocking him – that is, until the kid had joined the soccer team and started telling everyone that he was the team's greatest asset.

Then things had become personal.

Soccer was Mello's sport of choice, and he was fiercely competitive. At the time, he had been the team captain and the player that usually scored the most goals. When he had caught wind of what Charlie had been saying, he had approached him in the middle of the cafeteria and declared that Charlie wasn't capable of scoring a single goal.

And so the bet had been born.

Unfortunately for Mello, during the next game (against our rival high school, no less), he had been proven wrong; Charlie scored the first goal of the game. To Mello's credit, he didn't get mad, but rather did his best to score more goals than Charlie could. It's not like anyone in the stands had complained; we had gotten to watch an entertaining competition between the school's two best soccer players, and our rivals were obliterated in the process.

Once again, Mello surprised everyone when he upheld his end of the deal and showed up to Charlie's Halloween party dressed like a girl. What hadn't been a surprise, however, was when Mello had gotten totally smashed, and then got up on the coffee table with Halle and danced to "Milkshake" by Goodnight Nurse, effectively high-jacking the party.

Everyone had had a great time – except for me. Besides the fact that I had spent most of the night playing poker for Goldfish crackers in the basement with Near and Teru Mikami (some crazy guy that had a creepy, obsessive crush on Light, and probably tortured small animals in his spare time), it wasn't really that fun to come upstairs to find my best friend dancing suggestively on a table, earning cat-calls and wolf whistles from basically everyone in the crowd. I had been the one that had pulled Mello down off of the table, and then he had thrown up on my Link costume as thanks for my efforts.

I guess he'd kind of made up for it, though, when I'd walked him home – carrying his high heels in one hand with his arm slung around my shoulders, propping him up because there was no way that he could walk straight – because he'd said something that was so entirely unlike himself. Between muttering unintelligible nothings and belting out verses of "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, he'd leaned in really close to my ear and whispered that I was his hero.

Then he'd promptly lurched and threw up into somebody's rose bushes.

To this day, Mello insists he doesn't remember that part.

"Suck your stomach in and stand up straight," Mello said, dragging me out of my thoughts and into the present.

Exhale. One last tug. And then...

Holy shit. They're on.

I did a little happy dance after zipping them up while Mello looked on with a smirk. Clearing my throat after I had stopped acting like an idiot, I composed myself once more.

"So why did the rumours start that night?"

Mello shrugged. "It was just a lucky guess that happened to be true. Apparently, it was started because someone said that they couldn't see any underwear when they had looked up my dress – but they were lying."

"Oh."

There are some depraved people out there...

Also, I found it alarming that Mello could be so blasé about such a thing.

I mentally shrugged it off; if he wasn't bothered by it, then that was his choice.

For the first time since Mello came into the bathroom, I got a look at what he was wearing (hey, I'd been a little distracted earlier for obvious reasons... Don't judge). He donned a black wife beater under a leather jacket that just reached the top of his thighs, and he was wearing a pair of ripped, dark-wash skinny jeans. Despite the fact that his pants looked almost painted on and therefore unthinkable that they should fall down, a studded belt was cinched through the loops. A silver chain hung around his neck, and I could have sworn that he was wearing eyeliner.

"Are you planning to sin tonight?" I asked jokingly, referring to the fact that his rosary was noticeably missing.

An enigmatic smile was the answer. "It might be in the cards."

Mello opened the door and retrieved something that had been hanging from the doorknob on the other side. For the second time that night, a piece of clothing came flying through the air at my face.

This time, my ninja skillz failed me, and I got a faceful of shirt.

"Put that on and then meet me back in my room," Mello tossed over his shoulder as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Two minutes and an epic struggle with buttons later (damn Mello and his taste in complicated clothing), I finally looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes widened behind my lenses. The person in the mirror certainly _looked_ like me, but I was suspicious nonetheless.

There was something to be said for leather. I must admit that I actually felt pretty badass in it, and so I could understand why Mello felt so confident when he wore it all the time. At first, I had been a little confused by the choice of shirt (a black, button-down dress shirt), but seeing it as a complete package, it worked. I was naturally pale thanks to my Irish lineage, but the black clothing brought it out further. As for my hair, the contrast transformed it from a dark russet to a bright ginger.

I actually looked… pretty good.

However, how I looked did nothing to deplete my insecurity.

I was going to stick out like a sore thumb, I was sure of it. You might as well stick a kick-me sign on my back and toss me to the wolves. There was no way that I could live up to what the clothing advertised.

Mello was going to be embarrassed to be seen with me.

Swallowing back a wave of anxiety, I started frantically messing with my hair. Anything short of extreme-hold styling gel wasn't going to tame it, however, but I tried anyways. No matter what I did, my hair… well, my hair acted like how I usually wanted it to: to do absolutely nothing at all except keep my head warm. I couldn't expect anything different just out of the blue.

I couldn't expect to be anyone but the dorky redhead with the goggles.

Frustrated, I whipped off the offending object – in turn, mussing up my hair again – and tossed them in the direction of my discarded jeans. The world lost its darkened tint, and brown eyes met my own in the mirror.

I paused.

What am I doing?

I ran my hands through my hair, purposely returning it to its bedhead state. I tried on a smirk, tried to tap into the confidence that I knew I must have had somewhere in me. It didn't look quite right, but it was close enough.

I shrugged, gathered up my clothes, and went out to meet Mello.

Maybe I could try something different tonight.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I was initially nervous about walking through the house where anyone in Mello's family might see us and comment on our attire, but Mello did his best to placate me.

"Seriously, my mom doesn't care what I do as long as I don't injure someone, do something illegal, or stain the Persian rug. Don't worry so much."

Assuring people wasn't one of Mello's strong suits.

"I don't," I huffed as we stole out the front door.

He snickered. "You do, too. You're like a nervous, middle-aged woman."

I rolled my eyes at him. I found that said gesture was a lot more effective when my goggles were off and people could actually see it. "What does that make you?"

"Anything you want me to be, darling," he simpered and batted his eyelashes at me.

I seriously needed to stop taking the bait all the time; to Mello, those kinds of questions became ammunition.

I shoved him in retaliation and he cackled.

Just as I pulled out the keys to my mom's Nissan, the pounding of a bass could be heard as a car pulled up to the corner at the end of the block. I didn't think too much of it until I noticed the flash of anger in Mello's eyes. He held up a hand to signal me to wait, and then he walked over with a purposeful gait, his boots hitting heavy against the pavement. I threw my extra clothes in the trunk, shuffled my feet and twiddled my thumbs for a moment, before deciding that I might as well follow him over there.

The first thing I registered when I reached the car was that Miranda was climbing out of it – and she was wearing a very short skirt. The two siblings sized each other up for a moment, Miranda coldly defiant and Mello silently livid. I peered over at the driver and he met my eyes; his expression read apathy.

Well – this is going to be interesting.

Mello was the first to tear his eyes away. He pointed an accusatory finger at the driver. "You – out of the car."

"Yeah, yeah… Whatever, man," the guy grumbled, but he did as he was told regardless.

The guy came to stand beside Miranda with his hands in his pockets and his jeans riding low. He grinned at Mello as if to say _are you happy now?_ – but Mello was already looking back at Miranda.

"What?" she demanded. "Are you going to tattle on me to Mom? Or are you planning on filling her role tonight?"

From my place on the sidelines, I lit up a cigarette and took a drag. I shoved a hand in my pocket and resolved to wait it out.

"How old is he?" Mello's tone was cool, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakeable. For all the bravado Miranda's "friend" was putting forward, I knew he'd noticed it too, and he was beginning to look less sure of himself.

"None of your business," Miranda snapped at about the same time the guy replied, "Seventeen."

The corners of Mello's lips twitched up into a smile. "Seventeen," he repeated.

The guy nodded.

Mello's hands slapped down with a bang on the car window on either side of the guy's head. The suddenness of it made Miranda gasp. The boy was now a stark shade of white.

I spared a glance back at the house; the porch light was blocked by the shrubbery, and I doubted that anyone could see us from the windows. Smoke curled up from the end of my cigarette, the embers shining like little, red beacons in the shadows. A wind came up and Miranda shivered.

'Serves her right for wearing so little in cold weather.

"If you come sniffing around my baby sister ever again," Mello growled, his voice intense and perhaps more intimidating for its lessened volume, "I will chop your dick off, run it through a blender, and then spoon-feed it back to you."

The guy nodded yet again, head bobbing frantically like one of those novelty bobble-head dolls.

Mello released him then, and the smile was back as if he'd just hugged him rather than getting up in his face and threatening his reproductive organ. "Have a great night, now."

The guy didn't have to be told twice; he got back in his car and made a speedy exit.

Miranda shook her head and scoffed. "I can't believe you." With that, she whipped around and stormed off towards the house.

Mello heaved a sigh, deflating with it as he reached up to rub at his temples. He looked so small at that moment. I placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

Quicker than I could blink, he reached out and snatched my cigarette from between my lips. He crushed it beneath the toe of his boot, and then – without a glance in my direction – he started off towards the car. I blinked and looked down at the remains of my cigarette. No use in mourning; I followed him back, catching the tail end of his shadow as he passed under the streetlight.

I nudged him with my shoulder when I caught up to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" was the silent question.

He kept his gaze pointed forward. "No," was the non-verbal response.

We got into the car, and all was quiet for a moment when neither of us reached to put on our seatbelts. I considered making a comment about how it felt nice to be the driver for once instead of riding bitch on his motorcycle all the time – anything to make him smile – but I didn't. I pressed the brake down and turned the keys in the ignition.

As I moved to finally put on my seatbelt, the leather pants squeaked quite audibly – and suddenly a horrifying thought came to me.

I turned to him. "You've never worn these pants, have you?"

He looked at me for a moment as if I had two heads, obviously still stuck in his thoughts and caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. Then, a startled laugh bubbled up and he couldn't stop from grinning.

"You wish." The playfulness was back in every aspect of his expression and I silently cheered.

"'Just checking." I smiled with a great sense of satisfaction as I looked over my shoulder and started backing out of the driveway.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

It might be hard to believe, but even on a weekend, the number of cars on the road out of town was small. Or maybe it just appeared that way; there was a stretch of it as we came out of the foothills where all you could see at the very top were the city lights spilling over the brim. Where the earth meets the sky – or rather, the asphalt.

I'll leave it to Mello to come up with the poetic sayings; I could barely keep my eyes open during English class.

Speaking of the blond, he had his feet up on the dash and his head lolled to the side, watching the nightscape speed past. I could see the reflection of his eyes in the glass, and he must have noticed me looking in his direction, because he smiled. I bit my lip and grinned, turning my eyes back to the road.

Maybe five minutes later, I heard the crinkling of tinfoil and a resolute snap. A quick glance confirmed that Mello had gotten bored with staring out the window and had produced a chocolate bar (my theory is that he has at least five of them hidden on his person at all times – but I'm not prepared to do anything to prove I'm right, either). Once again, he caught me looking – as if he had a frickin' radar for it – and what he thought was a logical response was to waggle his eyebrows at me and then lick slowly across the top of the piece he had just bitten a chunk out of.

I cleared my throat and once again became very involved in watching where we were going.

We had just cleared the hills and gotten onto the flat stretch when he turned the radio on. I chuckled as he left it on the Top 40's for a moment, made a gagging sound, and then turned the dial. He flipped through a few commercials, lifted an eyebrow at the psychedelic music station he stumbled across, and was about to turn it off when he finally found a good station with a clear signal.

An energetic bass line came through the speakers, and he immediately reached to crank the volume up.

"Matt!" For some reason, he found it necessary to smack my arm even though I was already paying attention. "I _love_ this song!"

"_Take me to your best friend's house… Going 'round this roundabout, oh yeah…_" the singer belted out, and as the verse went on, I heard Mello jump in.

"Come on, Matt!" he yelled over the music. "Join me!"

"I don't know the words!"

He broke out into a wide grin. "It doesn't matter."

So, I ended up humming along while Mello swayed to the beat and rivalled the singer for volume. Eventually, I got louder and louder still. Halfway through, I was just as loud as Mello. When it got to the bridge, we were both trying to make each other laugh by mocking the female singer and improvising lines. We were laughing too hard after that to sing anymore except for half-hearted attempts during the last chorus.

"That was… interesting," Mello said after composing himself, the occasional chuckle still coming through.

I beamed. "We kicked that song's ass."

"Sure…" he snickered. "Don't quit your day job, Matty."

I laughed and gave him a playful shove.

Neither of us was going to get a record deal, but hey – we at least knew how to have fun.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Mello directed me to drive to a club that was near the downtown core, so I had to circle the block a few times to find a good parking spot. As soon as I put the car in park, Mello was jumping out. I retrieved the keys from the ignition and stepped out into the cold night air. At first I was a little disoriented by the number of people that were still out and about (granted, they looked a lot different than most people you would see out during the daytime), but I quickly located Mello who had stopped to look back at me. He beckoned me to follow him before melting in with the crowd.

The general flow of foot-traffic went from bar to bar, so it was hard to miss the intended destination. I caught up to Mello as he hitched onto the end of the line. Twenty minutes passed before I decided to smoke to curb my boredom. Mello shot me a look and I stuck my tongue out at him.

'Like I was the only one in line smoking…

I released the smoke from my lungs, careful to not exhale in Mello's general direction so as to avoid his wrath. "So why clubbing?"

Mello wrinkled his nose at the smell despite my efforts before shrugging. "'Thought it might be fun. Halle's been here once with a few of her friends and she recommended it."

I snorted, but smiled nonetheless.

If Halle recommended it, I wasn't quite sure what to think of it.

The wait ended up being a lot longer than necessary because of a group of guys in front of us deciding to argue with the bouncer when they were barred from getting in. They eventually left, yelling slurred swears as they went, but the damage was done. The bouncer set his eyes on me, the scrawny ginger next in line, and looked like he would enjoy making me cry.

Imagine my surprise then, when Mello tipped his head back and laughed as if I'd just said something particularly hilarious.

"Oh, Matt, you're so funny!" I blinked at the higher register of his voice, and his eyes flashed a warning at me.

I recognized the look from all the times that we'd been caught by an authority figure in the middle of pulling off a prank. It said: "Shut up and let me do the talking."

I think Mello keeps me around half of the time for the sole reason that I listen to most of his orders without question.

He flipped his hair over his shoulder, and then turned his baby blues on the bouncer, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. The upturning of his lips was disturbingly flirtatious. I'd already caught onto his ruse, of course, but that didn't mean I wasn't made uncomfortable by the ease with which he carried it out.

The bouncer obviously didn't notice anything amiss because he eagerly ushered us inside. Mello slipped a twenty into the guy's pants pocket, and I pressed my lips into a firm line to keep from saying anything. Only when we were out of earshot did I lean over to speak into his ear, trying to be heard over the bass.

"No wonder people mistake you for a girl all the time."

He dug an elbow into my ribs and barked, "_Shut up_."

"Okay, okay," I relented.

Yeah, I am totally going to tease him about that for the rest of the week.

Mello stomped off into the crowd, leaving me to fend for myself. I gravitated towards the bar and chose a seat near the end, away from the horde of people vying for the bartenders' attentions with their credit cards and cash waving in the air over their heads. I took in my surroundings with a reserved curiosity, reaching the verdict that I would have been better off to have brought my goggles along as the lights were already hurting my eyes. Also, my ears would probably be buzzing for the entirety of the next day.

Over all, the experience wasn't too bad so far.

I stayed at the bar through the next few songs, tapping my foot along to the beat. A girl had approached me at one point, asking if she could sit beside me and I said _yes_ – because really, why did she have to ask? It's not like there was a law against it. She tried to strike up a conversation with me, but my attention kept drifting to the dance floor where I was looking out for any signs of Mello, and so she eventually gave up on me and walked away.

Speaking of Mello, he came up to the bar to get a drink once, but spent the rest of the time dancing. I caught only glimpses of him in the crowd; he was dancing with this person, or dancing with that person, and sometimes just dancing by himself. He was in his element – untouchable, unreachable.

I was working up the courage to go and join him, but I hadn't found it yet.

"All dressed up with nowhere to go, hey, sweetie?"

I turned my head to see that the brunette bartender was leaning across the bar in front of me, head propped up in her hands. I smiled weakly at her. "I guess you could say that."

She grinned and regarded me in a way that someone would a puppy. Great. I'm "puppy" cute, am I? "What can I get you?"

"Coke, I guess." I passed her a five-dollar bill. Then, I provided as way of explanation, "'Got stuck as the designated driver."

She laughed. "That blows. I'll be right back."

Not more than a minute later, my drink came sliding across the bar to me and I caught it before it slid over the edge.

"Good catch," she said as she walked back over. She returned to her occupation of leaning against the counter and looking at me expectantly. I was of the mind to remind her that she had other customers to serve, but thought better of it. Instead, I pointedly turned around and went back to crowd-watching.

"So, are you just going to sit at the bar all night? I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't mind. It's just… you look kind of lonely."

I grunted, but didn't say anything.

Suddenly, I caught sight of Mello in the crowd and straightened in my seat. His chain reflected the lights as he moved with the music, as sinuous and fluid as smoke. He ran his hands through his hair and rolled his hips, eyes closed to the world. He wasn't dancing with anyone at that moment, but I could tell from the looks that he was getting that he wasn't short on options.

I felt my mouth go dry and I took a big swig of my drink.

"Is that your girlfriend? I saw you guys come in here together." The amusement in the bartender's tone was plain as day.

Startled, I threw a hasty _no _over my shoulder.

I didn't bother to correct her over the matter of the gender; my response was still true.

Her expression was one of sympathy. "But you want her to be, right? Poor thing… The Friend Zone is a bitch."

Just then, Mello's eyes slid open and his gaze met mine. In that moment, he looked more than ever like the cat who had caught the canary. He didn't walk over, but he did crook a finger at me.

Oh. Oh, shit.

The bartender clapped her hands with glee. "'Looks like that's about to change!" She shooed me off with a, "Go get 'er, tiger!"

I took another big drink, praying that somehow even caffeine would lend me courage at that moment. I slammed it back on the bar, hopped off of the stool, and started weaving my way through the crowd to the dance floor. Mello was making his way towards me as well, and he met me halfway.

We stood facing each other for a moment, neither of us saying anything.

Never mind the fact that I'd known him since Kindergarten, that I knew things about him that his parents didn't, that I'd trust him with anything – right now I was facing him as a stranger. I was facing him as a new person, the person that I was beginning to recognize since the start of the summer.

Who was I kidding? Even before then.

I couldn't think of Mello as just my childhood friend anymore.

There were tonnes of things I could say, but instead I started off with a lame, "Hi."

Mello grinned, a big, genuine thing that lit up his face and reached his eyes.

I guess sometimes _hi_ is as good as anything else.


	10. Wolf Like Me

**Suggested Listening: **_"Wolf Like Me"_ - TV on the Radio** (lyrics in this chapter are from this song)**

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**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Wolf Like Me~**

On the dance floor, the lights made my eyes ache, and I could not remember why I had decided against wearing my goggles. The bass was a constant thrum of energy – sort of like a heartbeat – and the people around us danced like it was the last thing that they were going to do; if the music stopped, they would cease with it. Across from me, Mello's eyes were lidded and shining under the lights. There was an invitation there that was echoed by the teasing tilt of his lips: "Come closer." Like everyone else, my feet moved to a beat that was suddenly as necessary as breathing.

In the thick of the crowd, we were being pressed upon on all sides – but still there was a separation between us. Neither of us dared get too close.

Not yet.

I understood now what it is like to be so close yet so far away. I could not remember where I had heard that from. Maybe I had heard it too many times to remember the original source. Maybe I am thinking in clichés – I don't know.

I don't know.

The song changed, and suddenly Mello's hands were resting on my hips. I stopped moving altogether, like someone had given me the command to freeze, and I gave him a questioning look. His eyes flashed a challenge, stubborn as always.

"You're overthinking it," he said. "Just move with the music."

So that's what it took to bridge the gap. If anything, I could thank my two left feet for trying his patience.

"I don't know how."

He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was more amused than anything else. "I'll show you."

And he did.

I don't pretend to know anything about music; it's all Greek to me. I understand numbers, I understand sequences – but there was disconnect between the waves of sound hitting against my eardrums and the way my body should move in response. Music was not a language I was accustomed to.

But I did understand the way my pulse elevated as Mello pressed himself against me.

I understood the way his hips swayed to the beat and how to move my feet in retaliation – give and take. I understood the sudden desire to take control, and the look in his eyes that said he would surrender if asked. I understood the feeling of the fabric bunching as I slid my hand up his back, chasing after the shiver that travelled up his spine.

Dancing was made for two.

Drums shot through my consciousness like gunfire, and I realized with a start that the song had changed once again. Mello must have sensed my hesitation because he pulled away.

We regarded each other for a moment.

"Well," – was it my imagination or did he look a little shaky? – "See? You can dance."

I grinned from ear to ear, and he threw back his head and laughed.

I took his hand then, determined to show him how good of a student I was. This song was much faster than the previous, and we were having a great time. Eventually, we were competing with each other, trying to catch the other off guard, just as much as we were dancing together. It felt like hours were flying by even though it was only minutes.

Soon enough, the song reached the bridge and everything slowed down. Couples all around us moved in closer to each other. Even Mello, who had been playfully dancing with his back to me, moved back so that he was flush with my chest.

Not for the first time that night, my heart felt like it was performing acrobatics within my chest cavity.

I tried to focus on the lyrics; I tried to rein myself in.

"_Dream me, oh Dreamer, down to the floor… Open my hands and let them weave onto yours…_"

My hands were resting on his hips, and I smiled as he tangled his fingers together with mine.

"_Feel me, Completer, down to my core… Open my heart and let it bleed onto yours…_"

The line of his throat was pale and ethereal under the black lights as he tipped his head back and rested it against my shoulder. I swallowed harshly around the sudden obstruction in my throat.

"_Feeding on fever, down on all fours…"_

I couldn't tell you who leaned in first.

"'_Show you what all that howl is for._"

He tasted like chocolate – and I really shouldn't have been surprised.

Once again, I found myself thinking in clichés because suddenly all else ceased to exist. The club, the crowd, the music – it all faded to unpleasant static. It wasn't like my heart had exploded or anything, but more that –

Okay, fuck – I'll just put it bluntly. I was finally kissing Mello and the world could just fuck off.

I forgot that the world doesn't usually listen to me.

Caught up as we were, neither of us had noticed the issue that had developed as a jealous boyfriend had come across his girlfriend dancing with another man. We did not see the drunken exchange of insults, the shoving, the girl pulling on their arms as she pleaded with them to stop – and we especially did not see the first punch that was thrown. This all came to light, however, when the other man stumbled backwards into us.

Mello and I were knocked apart, and we just stared at each other, dazed.

The man didn't even glance at us as he rubbed at his jaw and spit before stalking back over to where the boyfriend stood with his fists ready.

The damage was done.

Already, I could hear the commotion as a bouncer moved through the crowd. Mello must have heard this, too, because he nodded at me to follow him before disappearing into the throng of people, making his way towards the back exit. I followed him, lips feeling like they were burning.

To everyone else, nothing had changed. They were still young, the music was still playing, and they would dance, and dance, and dance. But as I moved through the crowd, pushing and shoving as I felt the walls caving in and the blood pounding in my ears, the beat took on a different meaning. The conversation I had had with Wedy that day in the park repeated in my head over and over, punctuated by the words I had said as a mantra all these years. They were the words I had told myself when Mello had broken up with his first girlfriend all those years ago, the words that I had told myself the day Mello had shown up to school for the first time in leather, the words that I had told myself whenever we had to change in the same room and I averted my eyes, and the words that I had told myself that day that I thought I was going to kiss him.

Because that's what had happened that day in his basement; what had _actually_ happened just seconds ago – for real.

And the words bounced around in my head, slamming against my skull along with the hammering bass: _Just a friend. Just a friend. Just. A. Friend._

Mello was waiting for me in the open doorway, and I shivered as the cold air hit my skin. I felt like I had a fever – I _must_ have a fever.

The ending lyrics of the song followed me out the door:

"_Tell your grandma and your mama, too: it's true, true, true, true… We're howling forever._"

I let the heavy door slam behind me with a _bang_.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I couldn't remember much of the drive back to town. It was cold when we'd first gotten into the car, and Mello spent much of the time fiddling with the heat settings. I tried to turn the radio on at one point, but Mello hit the dial not even two seconds afterwards.

We sat in a silence that I would have given anything to fill. I didn't, though, and in my peripheral vision I could see him sitting board straight with his jaw clenched. I knew the feeling; my knuckles were white with how tightly I was grasping the wheel.

My mind wandered.

I couldn't remember much of the drive back to town – but still here we were, sitting in Mello's driveway with the lights off. I know it should have worried me, but it didn't. I was suddenly very tired.

I had been staring ahead at the dashboard this entire time, and I let my eyes fall shut as I heard the whisper of cloth and the shift of movement as something in the cup holder was disturbed. A weight settled in my lap, then, and I wasn't even surprised; although, perhaps I should have been. Hands coaxed my chin upwards. I opened my eyes.

Mello was there before me, straddling my lap and burning his gaze into my own. His expression was defiant, desperate, and I knew this look. How many times had I seen this look after he had failed to receive the mark he'd wanted on a test, just before he lashed out? It was a look that betrayed his need to be loved, his need to be wanted, his need to _win_.

I placed my hands over his and didn't resist when he pressed his lips against my own.

I am selfish, too.

Something tangible in the air snapped, and suddenly the kiss became more insistent, and I was twisting my fingers in his hair, and he was smirking against my lips. I reached down to take off my seatbelt, and when he leaned back to allow me room, his back pressed against the horn. I jerked my head in surprise at the sound, and he took the opportunity to press kisses along my jaw, snickering all the while.

I suddenly found my voice as I felt his hand sneak beneath my shirt. "Mells, stop." Not forceful enough.

"No," he purred, not listening to me. I wouldn't have listened to me either; my tone of voice gave the impression that I wanted the exact opposite.

I needed to stop this before we did something that we would really regret.

I could have said a number of things here: "Now's not the time", "I'm not quite ready for this", "I need time to think"… Instead, I said the worst possible thing.

The truth.

"Mihael, _stop_." As if using his real name wasn't enough, I said, "I have a girlfriend."

Mello froze so abruptly that it was almost comical. He reeled back as if I had slapped him; for all the hurt held in his expression, I might as well have. That soon vanished, however, as he schooled his features back into a neutral expression; the stiff way that he held his jaw was the only thing that betrayed otherwise.

He slid back over to his side, and I felt suddenly cold again.

"Mells," I called to him as he got out of the car. He looked up at me, waiting, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. He shook his head and closed the door.

As I watched him walk up to his house with his head held high, I realized that maybe I had done something that I would soon regret, anyways.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I drove around town for a while after I left Mello's house. When I finally got back home, the porch light was still on, but all of the lights inside were off. I got my stuff out of the trunk and forced one foot in front of the other, feeling as if I was dragging myself through mud.

I heard the sound of soft breathing as I walked past the living room. I peeked in and, sure enough, my mother had fallen asleep on the couch while she had been waiting for me to come home.

As if I didn't feel enough like a shitty person.

I laid a blanket over her before going up to my room. I set my goggles on my night table and then threw the rest of the clothes to fall where they may; it was debatable as to whether I would pick them up tomorrow. Finally, I collapsed into bed, still wearing the leather pants and dress shirt – and my boots.

I don't care.

I shoved my head beneath my pillow and took solace in the darkness, where I could pretend for a while that today had never happened.


	11. Hole in Your Parachute

**Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, fav'ing, following, and all that jazz :) I hope you all enjoy this monstrously long chapter.**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Hole in Your Parachute"_ - Holy Fuck

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**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Hole in Your Parachute~**

The next day at work passed in a blur that was occasionally broken up with an extra dose of monotony – or another commandment from Linda (yes, commandment; commands from Linda were more extraordinary than the usual fare).

Be still, my beating heart.

I swear, if I was eighty, I'd go into cardiac arrest from all this excitement.

Fortunately for Linda, I was so... distraught – for lack of a better word – over the events of the day before, that I didn't even complain. Hell, I didn't even voice my acquiescence either. I did what she wanted, and I didn't say a _word_.

Linda went around smiling for that entire work shift.

"Matt, can you help this customer?"

Okay.

"Matt, can you put the returns back on the shelves?"

Sure.

"Matt, can you fix the system? It's on the fritz again."

_Pfft_. At least give me something challenging, why don't you.

"Matt, I just checked the shelves you stocked and well, frankly, it's a shoddy job at best. Go fix it."

It was your idea to organize them that way, not mine.

"Matt, a kid just threw up in the Family section. Go get a mop and clean it up."

Okay. Number one, that's gross. Number two, I liked it better when you were phrasing these things as questions.

"Matt, I want you to get down on your hands and knees, lick my boots, and call me your mistress."

Alright.

… Wait – what?

I'd just returned to the back room to empty out the mop water – and possibly gag a little at the odour – when Linda followed me in and put forth this horrifying request. I left the mop where I had leaned it against the wall and just stared at her.

Good Lord, I hope she's not serious, because if she is – well, for the sake of my sanity, I'm not going to go there.

She grinned at me wickedly. "'Knew that would get your attention."

I wasn't even going to dignify that with a response; I just glared at her and went back to straining the water out of the mop.

"You know," she started, and I froze at the sly note in her tone, "you recovered from that quite quickly. Are you used to getting asked to do that by a certain _special_ person in your life?"

I clenched my jaw, feeling the heat travel over my face all the way up to the tips of my ears. My grip tightened on the handle to the point where it almost hurt.

The smile left Linda's face immediately. "Hey, I'm sorry. Is everything okay?" She reached over to rest her hand on my shoulder, paused halfway, and then retracted it as if she thought better of it. "I mean, it's not every day that you do what I tell you to do without question."

"I'm fine," I said. I turned to wash my hands at the sink in the corner.

I saw her bite her lip in the mirror before she said, "You can tell me, you know. I'd listen."

"I would if there was something to say."

I had moved away from the mirror to dry my hands, but I could still feel her eyes burning into me.

"Okay," Linda whispered, and it was so quiet that I was unsure if she'd said anything at all. The next moment, I heard the door close behind her.

I stopped on my way out to check my phone. A frown tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

The display, a picture of Mells and me on Graduation Day, stared back at me. I couldn't help but find the smiles on our faces taunting.

No new messages.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

After work, I'd planned on walking straight home, but I got lost in my thoughts and ended up starting off in the wrong direction. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked back at the route that I usually took. Near and Linda exited the video store just then, talking and laughing (well… smiling on Near's part) as they walked around to the back parking lot. Neither of them took any notice of me standing there, looking like an idiot. I frowned as I turned to face the direction that my feet had carried me in.

I mentally shrugged. What the hell – when was the last time that I went on a walk, anyway?

I fished out my phone, sent my mom a quick message to tell her that I would be home by eight at the latest and to ask her if she could wrap up my dinner, and then shoved my phone back in my pocket. I made to set off once more, but faltered. Feeling like a weak-willed pansy, I yanked my phone out again and typed up a quick message.

**TO: Mello (4:34):**

_Please don't be mad_.

I immediately erased the draft and started over.

**TO: Mello (4:35):**

_Call me when you get off, 'kay?_

It wasn't exactly satisfactory, but at least I wouldn't get my head bitten off for it.

Then, without further ado, I set my feet to the pavement. I had no idea where I was going except only that that was where my feet were carrying me. No thought required. I counted my footsteps to distract myself in case my mind wandered back to the unpleasant circumstances at hand.

_Slap_ – _one, two, three_ – was the sound my rubber soles made on the concrete.

As I walked down Main Street, my gaze passed over all the people and places that I hadn't bothered to think of in a long time. There was Brandi Mitchell's mother, hauling groceries to her car, who used to volunteer with our Grade Two class. At the end of the block was the convenience store; out front, Mello and I used to sit on the curb, heckling the older boys riding past on their skateboards. Meanwhile, behind the store, I later found out that Mello would bully kids a great deal bigger than him for the cigarettes that I smoked on a daily basis up until I was old enough to buy them myself. The corner ahead of me was where I had first seen Mello's motorcycle when he had driven up beside me while I had been walking home from school at the end of tenth grade.

This was the street where we had skinned our knees, this was the heat of summers past that still burned in our lungs, and this was the childhood that we hadn't yet figured out how to outgrow.

A car sped past, the engine roaring obnoxiously, and my train of thought was thankfully broken. I concentrated on planting my feet down a little harder, counting in my head a little louder.

I reached the last intersection before the road sloped down the hill and I froze, looking up at the street sign.

Why had my feet carried me here of all places?

A memory I had stuffed to the bottom of the filing cabinet that was my mind flashed to the forefront, and I stayed planted where I was even as my thoughts were transported back to days long since passed.

It had been raining that day. Maybe that's not the most important detail, but it was the first thing that I remembered: the smell of wet asphalt and the already heavy scent of freshly cut grass hanging in the air made sharper by the humidity. Next, was the memory of my blurred vision, obscured by the condensation forming faster on my goggles than I could wipe it away. My lip had been sore, as it usually was after a day of school, from worrying at it with my teeth as a substitute for not being able to smoke. Strangely enough, I also recalled the taste of chocolate; Mello must have given me a bite of his Hershey bar as a consolation for having dragged me by the hand through the rain with barely an explanation other than: "Forget going home. We have places to be."

I would say that I had been a doormat back then, but that would be hypocritical. I'd still let him drag my ass all over the country if he wanted – 'cause he'd do the same for me.

At least, I used to be sure he would.

I bit my lip, breaking open a slight cut that had just begun to scab over, but I didn't give a damn. I wanted a cigarette at that moment, but I restrained the urge. Whether it was out of a strange sense of courtesy to the memory (empathy for my younger self or maybe the wish to hold onto the smell of rain just a little bit longer) or even just a sudden case of masochism – I don't know. Well… maybe I do.

Mello wouldn't approve.

I shot a half-hearted glare at the sign before turning onto the street it indicated.

Mello had been uncharacteristically cheerful the day that he had led me down the road that I was now walking on. Due to this, and perhaps some more whining on my part, he had quickly filled me in on his plan. We were on our way to someone's house – and not just anyone, either: the boy that had the highest marks in our junior high, Lawrence Lawliet.

L always hated it when people called him by his real name.

I hadn't been nearly as excited by this news as Mello had been, and it wasn't because I had already been put in a grumpy mood by having been soaked through to the bone.

No – it was because, back then, I had been intensely jealous of L (and just as afraid of what that meant).

It was strange; all through school Light had had the same rank as L, but L was the only one that Mello had chosen to idolize. Well, okay. It actually wasn't that strange at all considering the fact that Mello had already pegged Light as a prissy daddy's boy who used his charms to manipulate people – but I hadn't known that at the time. All that I had been concerned about was the sudden appearance of a rival for my cherished spot as best friend.

And when I mean sudden, I mean within the first three days of us entering the seventh grade.

Junior high was the time when Mello had been the most obsessed about his marks, and due to his constant perusals of the ranking board, he had quickly learned of L's esteemed academic standing. It went hand in hand that he should have also instantly formulated the plan to absorb the raven into his circle of close friends. Obviously, given the invitation (and the fact that L is still putting up with our presence) I'd say that he hadn't minded a bit.

So, there we had been, standing in front of that very sign while Mello had told me that his wish of the moment had come true.

And I had had the good sense to grumble, "What's so good about him?"

I say good sense because at least I hadn't said, "Why don't you marry him?" – which would have earned me a deserved cuff around the ears.

Mello had responded to my juvenile comment with an air of superiority that teetered on the line between the brattiness he'd exhibited as a young child and the entitled cockiness he grew into in later adolescence. He had squared his shoulders and eyed me in a way that had made me feel distinctly smaller. "Matt, don't be such a child."

Cowed, I had followed him to L's house that first time and was the epitome of politeness even though I'd felt stung by his remark – or maybe I had been on my best behaviour because of it.

He had redeemed himself a week later when my mother had grounded me after discovering my newly acquired smoking habit, and he had broken me out of my house and then hid me in the tree house in his backyard where we hung out until long after the streetlamps had gone on.

I'd then been grounded for an extra two weeks, but oh well.

Regardless, even as his words had cut me at the time, I'd already forgiven him. The reason for it had nothing to do with an understanding that he hadn't really meant it or that I couldn't blame him for telling me I was acting like a child when I _was_. It was a lot more confusing, and because of that I hadn't really examined it until now.

If I was honest, it had a lot to do with how his eyes had glared out at me from under his sopping wet fringe, as volatile and electric as the storm that had been raging overhead. His hair had been plastered against his head, and as he had spoken, a rain drop had rolled down his nose before disappearing into the crease between his lips. My stomach had suddenly felt uncomfortably hollow. I had ceased to care what he had been saying as my mind had suddenly drawn a blank.

I'd never been that good at paying attention when being lectured, but something tells me the motivations behind my lack of concentration that time were different.

Even at thirteen, I had wanted to kiss him.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

As I reached the cul-de-sac where L's house was situated, I dialled in L's number on my phone and waited for someone to pick up. It wasn't like I was going to just waltz on into his house without asking if it was good time for him or not. If it wasn't, I could just walk home; a walk was all I wanted out of this, anyways.

I waited for a few moments at the end of their driveway with my phone pressed to my ear. I ended up getting the answering machine, and, unperturbed, I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and made to go back in the direction that I had come from. I'd barely made it a few steps when I heard a door close behind me. Taking a look back, I was surprised at what I saw.

Light had just come out of L's house and was now walking down the driveway. Furthermore, he seemed to be finishing fastening the buttons on his shirt whilst raking a hand through his hair. Over all, he looked dishevelled in a way that his perfectionism would normally not allow.

Am I witnessing what I think I'm witnessing? Is Light _really_ doing the walk of shame – out of _L's_ house of all places? At least, I hope it was with L… because the only other option was just… I couldn't even think about it without feeling ill.

But – Light had a girlfriend, so I couldn't jump to conclusions.

A little voice then spoke up in my head: "'_Didn't stop you_."

Not the time, conscience, not the time…

I cast a glance around the immediate area, deciding whether or not I should hide. He hadn't spotted me yet, so there was still a chance –

Just then, he looked up and our eyes connected.

Shit.

Apparently, I didn't have anything to worry about, though, because all he did was smirk that slow, self-assured smirk of his (the one that girls threw themselves at him for, but really made him look like a douche). His eyes didn't linger on me long, the contempt that he seemed to feel for the whole human race showing in them, before passing on again.

He got into his car without sparing another glance at the house or me. I was left there feeling… well, snubbed. There really wasn't another word for it.

Of course, just as Light drove off, a car happened to turn into the cul-de-sac and stopped at the foot of the driveway. Eyeing the tinted windows, I quirked a brow. The driver-side window was promptly rolled down and I was greeted by a smiling, familiar face.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. If I'd known you'd stop by today, Matthew, I would have gotten the grocery shopping out of the way much earlier," Watari said.

I returned the smile genuinely. "'Not a problem. I came here without giving you guys a warning, so it's my fault."

He glanced toward the house. "My grandson is home, but something tells me he has yet to extend the common courtesy of greeting you and inviting you inside."

"It's okay," I interjected, "really. I just got here. Besides, he was entertaining" – how has yet to be ascertained – "another guest; Light was here. I arrived just as he was leaving."

"Ah, I see." I could have sworn the corner of his lips twitched, and his expression changed minutely, as if smiling suddenly took effort. "Well, in any case, you may come inside now."

He rolled up the window once more and put the car back in drive. I followed behind him up the driveway, veering towards the front door when he made to park the car in the garage. A few minutes later, the front door opened and I was being ushered inside.

"So," he began, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "No particular reason… 'Just thought I'd stop by since I was in the neighbourhood."

He nodded. "Fair enough." Then, he threw a glance towards the staircase and said, half to himself, "L must be upstairs. I should inform him that you're here."

"That's okay," I blurted. As a result, an uncomfortable few moments followed in which he blinked at me, bemused, and my discomfort rose. It would probably be best if I offered an explanation now… "I was actually wondering if you wanted help now."

In truth, I usually liked seeing L, but after witnessing Light's strange behaviour, I wasn't as eager. L was already an oddball; I was slightly afraid of finding out what out of the ordinary meant for him.

I've had enough excitement these past few days, thank you.

"Oh," – his eyebrows raised slightly – "certainly. By all means, head on downstairs and make yourself at home. I will be with you as soon as I have these groceries put away."

I nodded before turning on my heel to head over to the basement door. I pressed my hand on the wood above the door knob, and turned the handle with some difficulty. All the while, I was inwardly laughing at the fact that Watari could fix anything from an engine to a toaster oven and yet he hadn't gotten around to greasing the handle on a door he used numerous times a day.

Priorities.

I made my descent, remembering with a pang – which in turn elicited annoyance – Mello's joke about their basement being the Bat Cave.

It was hard to imagine L and Watari as a crime-fighting team. Watari totally had Alfred down to a tee, but L would make a pretty strange Batman. How L would ever fit that mask over his gravity-defying hair is anyone's guess. Not to mention, his slouch would probably lose him some major points in the intimidation department…

… Why am I even thinking about this?

Anyways…

Watari's workshop, by some miraculous effort, was even more disorderly than usual. Scrap metal lay in heaps against the wall, tucked in behind the staircase. Various kinds of screws peppered the floor. Half-finished project littered every surface, ranging from repairs of household electronics to strange, little contraptions that looked like they came right out of da Vinci's sketches. It was clear what he was currently working on; a light was left on over the roll-top desk in the corner, shedding light on some small tools and a tiny, decorative timepiece with its back taken off, leaving its delicate inner workings exposed. That was the only corner that was kept acceptably organized by general standards. I suppose for good reason, too, considering that various family photos and awards were displayed on the desk itself and the shelf above it.

I moved an empty computer tower casing from where it was resting precariously on a stool and sat down. Then, I feasted my eyes on the impressive mess all around me.

No effort had to be exerted; I already felt perfectly at home.

From the angle I was at, a large pile in the corner covered by a canvas quickly came to my attention. I noted curiously that whatever it was had not been there the last time I was here. It was also unusual that he should take the care to cover it, unless… Then it hit me. Watari must've ordered the parts before I could talk him out of it.

There wasn't any time to go over and check what it actually was to put my feelings at ease, because just then, Watari came walking down the stairs.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable," Watari said, and the polite smile that he seemed to wear at all times out of habit made another appearance. "So, what do you think of what I've done with the place?" He gestured around the area with a sweep of his arms.

I told him the truth, "I'm jealous."

He chuckled and straightened a little at this, obviously pleased. "Well, I would say _thank you_, but it seems inappropriate to thank someone for their envy; it seems a little vain, don't you think?"

I just laughed. I knew a few people who would do that and take pleasure in the fact that it would get on the other person's nerves…

"Now," he hummed to himself, moving towards the work table to my left, "what shall I show you first?"

I eyed the gadgets in question (some finished, some not, and some impossible to tell which category they fell into) and pointed out at random. "What's that?"

Watari picked up a metal cone that was surrounded by a spring and some bits of wire with balls secured to the ends. "Oh, this? Yes, it is quite a curious thing, isn't it…?" He then proceeded to reach inside and wind up the coil. When he let go, the coil began to decompress, causing the wires to spin rapidly – and one of the balls to come flying off, narrowly missing my head. It hit the shelf behind me with an audible _ping_, causing a large stack of papers to fall to the floor.

"I suppose it's not supposed to do that…" I murmured, watching the previously dangerous projectile roll slowly across the floor.

He cleared his throat. "Well, no…" Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he examined the contraption in his hand before shrugging and placing it back on the table. "I guess it's back to the drawing board for that one. Anyhow," he said, walking over to the other end of the workshop, "this is what I want your help with."

I followed him over to yet another cluttered workspace, expecting to see some sort of Frankenstein creation that had such an outlandish appearance that one would never guess that it served a practical purpose. Instead, as I peered over his shoulder, I was greeted by a completely innocuous desktop computer.

"What's wrong with it?" I inquired, tilting my head to the side. I couldn't possibly imagine what it could be, considering that Watari could solve almost any everyday issue by himself and then some. If it were a more difficult problem, it would take him more time, but ultimately he would fix it by himself. He especially wouldn't ask for help from me, some kid (okay, I'm legally an adult, but _still_) decades his junior.

"That's the trouble," he said, rubbing off his glasses on his sweater before pulling up a stool further down the table. He turned on a lamp overhead, positioning it just so, before groping around under the table for something stashed on the shelf there. "All I can tell you is that it has been shutting off before the operating system loads. I haven't had the time to troubleshoot yet what with all the housework that has been piling up lately. I swear my grandson makes more of a mess at the age of twenty than he did as a child.

"I thank our good fortune that we found a new groundskeeper so soon after John had to retire because of his injury; I don't know what I would do about cutting the lawn otherwise – Ah! There it is!" He pulled out a black DVD player and set it on the tabletop. As he did so, there was a rattling sound as if something were rolling around inside of it. "Speaking of messes that L has made, this might take the cake. He somehow managed to get a gumball stuck inside of it, and now I'm going to have to take the blasted thing apart to see if it can be salvaged." To illustrate his point, he gave the object in question another shake.

Through all of this, I listened with a smile, concentrating both on removing the backing on the tower and examining its innards, and to what he was saying. It had been like this ever since that first visit when L had given us a tour of his place and we had run into Watari down in his workshop, hunched over whatever invention he had been slaving over at the time. Mello had passed through, uninterested, while I had stayed behind, watching quietly as he had manipulated metal as easily as if it were clay. Watari had looked up then, and he had beckoned me over with a smile, and I had sat down there watching him work until Mello had come looking for me and dragged me back upstairs again.

On subsequent visits, I would forgo conversation upstairs and instead slip down to the workshop where I would I sit and watch the old man at work without saying a word. Back then, Watari didn't say very much either; he mostly just smiled as if he was holding back laughter, obviously amused by the strange kid with the over-sized striped shirts and bright-red hair that nearly reached his nose that would watch him for a few hours at a time so seriously, as if he were doing something of some great weight and importance. Communication during that time usually consisted of him holding out something to show me, me pointing at whatever interested me so he could carry out the previous action, and a lot of nodding.

Mello would usually find his way down there when it was time to leave, and I would get up and leave without so much as a goodbye. As more occasions accumulated where I spent the whole time downstairs, Mello began to be much snippier on the walk home. Finally, I knew he'd reached his limit when he had followed me down and sat there steaming beside me the entire time while Watari and I went about our routine.

A petty part of myself had felt smug that he had had his own share of jealousy over me having a new friend, too.

As we got used to each other, I began to walk about the workshop and look at the pictures on the wall, asking questions about each one. It was then that I found out that Watari actually had a lot to say. Eventually, I didn't have to give any lead-in at all; he would start talking as soon as we went downstairs. I was content to listen. I had quickly realized that most of what he had to say had to do with other people; things about himself were a lot slower coming. In that way, among others, I felt a sense of camaraderie with him.

During those times, he told me about his family back in England, and the strict upbringing he had been subjected to by his upper-class parents. I had listened in disbelief as he had related tales of rebellion in his teenage years. I had laughed at his remark about his mother's indifference towards his interest in tinkering, and his father's differing opinion: "I suppose as long as my hands were busy with machinery rather than other things, my mother was happy – but my father could never forgive me for the time I took apart his favourite watch. It never did tell time the same after that…"

When he had spoken of L's parents, I had listened even more carefully than usual. It hadn't occurred to me at that time what had happened to them; I'd barely given a thought to the fact that L lived alone with his grandfather. It was just the way things were.

He told me how he and his wife had raised his daughter much more laxly than either of their parents had raised them. Katherine (Kitty, he always called her) had been like a whirlwind, he had recalled with a fond note in his voice, moving from place to place seemingly at random – but always with purpose. She had always felt injustices so deeply and cared so strongly for others, he'd said. Because of this, she had signed up as an aid worker overseas in Africa, where she had met her husband and L's father, William, an anthropologist researching for a book he had been writing at that time about tribal culture. Watari had described William as being quiet and studious, but when he got bad case of wanderlust, he could be just as unpredictable as his wife. Caught between the whims of his mother and father, L had spent his first seven years of life being whisked from place to place all over Europe, the large trunk of books his parents had accumulated over the years his only constant companion.

"How did they die?" I had blurted out at the end of this story, promptly turning bright red afterwards.

I remember distinctly that he had hesitated then, looking at me carefully over the rims of his glasses. I don't know what he'd seen in me that convinced him to answer, but he did. "It was a car accident."

"Oh."

I didn't say anything else for the rest of that visit.

After that, I made a conscious effort to talk to L more. I ended up becoming just as good of friends with him as Mello was. L and I never talked about my initial, unreasonable dislike of him, and eventually it was as if it never had been.

"Okay, Matt, what's wrong?"

I snapped back into the present, only to realize that I had been staring off into space for the last five minutes, not hearing a word that Watari had been saying.

"Nothing," I replied sheepishly, returning my attention to the open case in front of me. Now that my mind was in the right place, I quickly spotted the problem: a screw had come loose and had come in contact with the motherboard, causing an electrical short. I grabbed the first screwdriver I saw, thinking it was the last one I had used, and attempted to tighten the screw.

"I can see that," he said, and I jumped when I realized that he was now right behind me, looking over my shoulder. "I suppose you're using a Robertson bit on a Phillips screw for some other reason, then."

Well, shit. No wonder that wasn't working…

I dropped the screwdriver carelessly onto the table and pushed my goggles up so that I could rub the bridge of my nose. I could feel my pulse there, the headache that I'd been trying to ignore all day suddenly sweeping over me like a wave.

"I'm just tired," I said. Even though it was true, it sounded like a flimsy excuse even to my own ears.

I heard the scratch of metal against concrete, and then he was sitting on his stool beside me, hands folded neatly in his lap. I kept my eyes glued to the surface in front of me, following scratches in the surface and finding patterns – anything to avoid meeting his sympathetic gaze.

"Is it Mello?" he prompted finally, once it was clear that I wasn't going to let down my defenses.

I flinched. That was _way_ too close to the heart of the matter. I knew he couldn't know (how could anyone know?) but… what if he did? What if he could read it all over my face?

Had it been that obvious to everyone this entire time?

I squashed down the thought just as soon as came, and turned towards him. I did my best to look him straight in the eye as if everything was normal, as if I had nothing to hide.

"Why would you think that?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but it came off just as prickly and defensive as I was feeling right now.

His lips curled into a smile; I didn't return it this time. "I have known you boys for a number of years now, and have witnessed quite a few disagreements between you two, or otherwise have heard of them second hand. I can spot the signs by now. Besides," he continued in a gentle voice, "there can only be one other person who could worry you so deeply, and if it were so, you would be at home and not here."

Immediately I felt my shoulders tense at this allusion, and I had to stop myself from making a biting remark. This was Watari; he meant well. I forced myself to relax and took a deep breath.

"You're right," was all I said.

He nodded. "And I suppose you do not wish to tell me what happened?"

I nibbled at my lip out of habit, tasting copper. I didn't even mind the sting as I agitated the wound; it kept my thoughts clear. "You're correct again," I mumbled.

"I see. That bad, hm?"

My eyes snapped to his face; all I saw there was compassion. Exactly what a parent would feel for any child, I realized suddenly. I had to make a decision as to how much I would tell him, this man who I hadn't fully understood until now had filled the void that had been left gaping inside myself when my dad –

I chomped down on my lip and felt relief as the pain wiped away all unwelcome thoughts.

"I don't know how to fix it this time," I told him honestly.

"The answer will come," he said, resting a hand on my shoulder, "if the relationship you have with him is important to you."

I squared my shoulders as I sat up straight, and it didn't take much effort to look him in the eye this time.

"It is," I said, feeling a strong sense of resolution. "It is."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"Thank you for your help," Watari said cheerfully as we went up the stairs. "Oh, that's right," – he paused as he made to shut the door behind us – "I will have Ben drive over the parts on Wednesday, if that is alright for you?"

I frowned. "Watari, really, you don't have to. I've been saving up my money –"

"Matt," he cut in sternly, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me gently, "there are two forms of selfishness in this world: expecting more kindness than is due, and not having the good sense to accept kindness when it is. Besides, that money is for your education.

His mouth stretched into a wide smile as he let me go. "Thank you once again. Your talents are wasted at that job, you know. If ever you feel the need for a change of scenery, just let me know, and I will put in a good word."

With that, he disappeared down the hallway and I was left alone in the kitchen. I shrugged and went to go get my shoes.

I heard the crack of thunder outside as soon as I entered the foyer, and sure enough, when I went look out the window, it was indeed raining. I swore under my breath. From the sitting room the next room over, I heard a clinking sound and froze. My socked feet made no noise against the linoleum as I sneaked over to investigate.

The first thing that hit me when I peeked into the room was that it was very dark. There was only one lamp on; its golden light scarcely lit the large room and threw the corners into dark shadow. The massive bookcases against the far wall gave off an intimidating air in the dimly-lit atmosphere, seeming to almost loom over the only person in the room. In a high-backed armchair by the window, L sat perched like a raven with an afghan draped around his shoulders and his chin resting on the back of the chair, staring unseeingly at the rivulets of rain streaming down the two-story windows. A tea set was laid out on the coffee table, and at once I knew the source of the sound I'd heard.

I cleared my throat. When this elicited no response, I knocked on the frame of the archway and called out, "Hello?"

L turned his head towards me, looking at me with such a stoic expression that I almost believed that he had known that I was there the entire time. The only thing that betrayed this assumption was when he raised his thumb to his lips and curled in on himself further.

The cogs were turning; he was thinking of how to explain himself.

Without removing his thumb from his mouth, he asked, "Would you like some tea?"

I shook my head and stepped into the room, shoving my hands into my pockets. "No, thanks… Um… Are you okay?" I decided that cutting right to the chase was best.

He worried at his thumb for a few moments, staring at the floor, before looking up again. "On days like these, I swear I can hear the bells, and then I imagine I'm back with my parents in our flat a few blocks from the church. The bells chime, they go out into the rain, and they never come back." His voice was steady, yet I felt bad for him all the more for it.

I felt my mouth go dry. Searching for the right words to say, I swiped my tongue across my bottom lip and picked at a stray thread in my pocket. "Sometimes I still wake up when a car drives by our house in the middle of the night, and I'm terrified because I think it's just about to crash into – " I choked on the last part and swallowed. I swore at myself mentally, angry because I had never told anyone that before.

Well, it's out there now, and I can't take it back.

L and I just looked at each other, trying to decide what to do now that we'd both exposed secrets about ourselves that we'd sworn we'd never tell to anyone.

He set his teacup down on the tray and then made to get up. Drawing the blanket around his shoulders like a cape, he shuffled past me and into the foyer.

"I apologize for earlier," he called over his shoulder. "Yagami-kun had spilled some tea on his shirt, and it took me some time to figure out how to work the washing machine without Watari here to supervise."

I blinked at the sudden change of topic, but was grateful for it all the same. Not to mention the very reasonable explanation that suddenly made me feel ashamed…

I tried to cover up my discomfort with humour. "Yagami-kun? What did Light do to get demoted to last name basis?" I asked as I pulled on my shoes.

"_Yagami-kun_," L asserted, "was being a little shit today, so I may call him whatever I please."

I burst out laughing at the serious look on his face. I managed to get out between breaths, "What did he do?"

A smile tugged slowly at his lips. "He beat me at chess."

Which, of course, set me off laughing all over again.

"Here," he said once I'd collected myself, and I felt something nudge my shoulder. I looked down and saw an umbrella, which L held out to me with that strange, two-fingered grip that he used to hold just about everything.

What's he afraid of? Cooties?

"Thanks," I said, taking the umbrella and popping it open. "I'll bring it back the next time I'm here."

With that settled, all that was left were goodbyes. Once again, we stood staring at each other and I was reminded of our earlier conversation in the sitting room. I felt all of the mirth go out of me like water down a drain.

"Have a safe walk home," he murmured, raising his thumb once more to his mouth. He hesitated momentarily before patting me awkwardly on the arm with his free hand.

I returned the gesture, gave him a nod, and then walked out the door before I'd say something else that I'd regret. On the walk down the drive, I stopped and turned back to see if he'd returned to his spot in the armchair. There was nobody there in the window, and so I continued on.

I walked the streets that led me back to home with renewed purpose, thinking of my conversation with Watari and considering the options. By the time I was stepping onto the porch, I'd made my decision.

I know what to do now.


	12. Like Eating Glass

**So, I'm putting this chapter up a day early because my whole weekend is filled up with plans to visit family. I am so happy that it's finally spring. I was really getting sick of all that snow... As for the next chapter, I will go back to posting on Fridays.**

**As always, thanks for all the support! :D**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Like Eating Glass"_ - Bloc Party **(If you listen to any song that I've suggested so far, definitely make it this one. At the very least, please look up the lyrics. The last verse has so much symbolism in it, and I believe it fits the characters very well.)**

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Like Eating Glass~**

The clock read seven thirty AM when my alarm went off on the morning two days after I went to L's. Despite the fact it was an hour and a half earlier than I usually got up for work, I had no trouble getting up and getting ready. I went through the tasks of getting dressed and brushing my teeth as fast as I could manage.

I was a man on a mission.

I tore down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar off of the counter and my keys off the hook without even looking at either of them. Foot out the door and hand resting on the door knob, I was almost home free – until I heard a soft voice speak up behind me and I froze in my tracks.

"My, you're up early. Where are you running off to?"

Almost comically slowly, I turned around.

My mother was sitting at the table, reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose and her long fingers curled around the coffee mug that I vaguely remembered buying her for mother's day a number of years ago. The morning paper was spread out before her, and I noted that she had circled quite a few entries in the classifieds with red pen. I met her eyes nervously, shifting my weight from foot to foot like I might have done when I'd been a little boy and she'd caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.

"I'm going to meet someone before work."

She hummed, took a sip of her coffee, and then set the mug on the table.

I fiddled with my keys when I saw her fold her hands; I knew I wouldn't be getting out of this without an explanation.

"Mello? Or," – she raised an eyebrow – "the girlfriend?"

I realized with a pang that I'd never even introduced Wedy to my mother.

"Neither," I mumbled, choosing to look down at the linoleum.

"Well," she said, and I knew just from her tone of voice that she knew I was lying, "don't let me keep you."

Feeling a sense of relief, I turned back to the door. However, I hesitated. I only gave it a moment's thought before deciding _hey, what the hell – what's another delay?_ and I moved across the room in two strides and wrapped my mom up in a hug.

When I pulled back, I saw that a warm smile was gracing her features. "Give Mello my best."

Damn... There was just no fooling her.

I stuck my tongue out at her, and I got an apple grabbed from the fruit bowl on the table thrown at me in response.

"Hey! What happened to not playing with your food and never throwing things in the house?" I exclaimed, catching the apple (my ninja skillz were seriously on a roll lately) and putting it in my bag.

She laughed. "Do as I say, son, not as I do. Either way, you should eat it; you hardly eat anything for breakfast as it is." She made a shooing motion at me with her hands. "Now get out of my hair. Besides, it's bad manners to keep someone waiting."

Shaking my head at my mother's antics, I finally set out into the morning. As I made my way down the sidewalk, I pulled the apple out of my bag and took a large bite out of it.

If only the saying was, "An apple a day, keeps Mello's temper at bay."

'Cause I don't know about needing a doctor today, but I was at least eighty-five percent sure that what I was planning to do wouldn't have such a morbid ending.

I finished the apple and tossed it into a garbage can, turning onto the path that would take me through the park.

Mother knows best, right? It makes no difference, anyway, because I was going to need a lot more than good wishes and a balanced breakfast to succeed today.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The truth is I was heading into this situation blind. Mello had ignored all attempts at contacting him for the past two days, and I was running out of options. The need to make things right was constantly pressing on my mind like some malignant tumour, and I was finally desperate enough to take matters into my own hands.

If Mello wasn't going to meet me halfway, then I would just have to go to him.

I'd only gathered the guts to go and talk to him face to face the night before, and as a result, I was hardly prepared. Even though I'd stayed up a good three hours more than I should have due to the fact that I couldn't stop possible scenarios from running through my head at a breakneck pace, I was still no closer to knowing what I wanted to say. I didn't even know if he'd let me get a word out.

All the possible things I could say were still running through my head while I walked through the park. I was so tangled up in my thoughts that it took me much longer than I should've to see that the object of my thoughts was running right towards me. We were the only two people in the area at that moment, however, and the sound of his sneakers hitting the pavement was more than enough to catch my attention as he got closer.

At first, I just froze.

Thankfully, he was too absorbed in the music blasting through his earphones to notice me standing in the middle of the path, gawking at him as he jogged round the bend. Despite myself, I took a few moments to take in his appearance: his hair was pulled back in an elastic (a habit he'd picked up in track and field after finding his hair hanging around his face during events unbearable in the midday sun), and everything about his expression read determination and focus. Of course he was wearing all black.

There was only one thing I could think of to do.

I waved my arms frantically over my head and jumped up and down.

I spent maybe a good twenty seconds doing this, feeling like an idiot the entire time. It was only when I decided it was futile and that I should stop that he looked up. He ceased so abruptly and the expression on his face was so blank that it was almost as if he'd just reacted to my sudden appearance, but he hadn't really processed it. It was only the movement of his chest as it rose and fell because of his accelerated breathing that made it impossible to assume that he was a statue.

We stood there and stared at each other.

Suddenly, he reached up and removed the earphones from his ears. Then, with a smirk, he turned around and ran.

I gaped after him, aghast.

All of a sudden, it clicked.

"Mello, you fucker, wait for me!"

I raced after him, forcing my legs into exerting themselves in a way that they hadn't been used in a long time. For once I was glad of my lankiness, because at least my long legs were making up for my lack of athleticism by covering a fair amount of ground. I didn't even care as my muscles protested; the adrenaline was pumping, my heart was racing, and I was _going_ to catch him.

There was no way that I was going to let Mello get away this time.

Granted, Mello was not making it very easy. He literally ran circles around me, going in wide circuits around the park and constantly changing direction. At one point, he even jumped over a bench. Because the path on that side was blocked off by bushes, there was no easy way to follow him. There were only two options: sprout wings to fly over the bench (jumping like Mello wasn't even an option; with my luck, I'd break my neck) or go bushwhacking. I chose the latter, swearing at Mello under my breath the entire time as my shirt got shredded by thorns. Then – just to be a bastard – Mello hopped over the bench _again _and I fought my way back through. By that point, I was seeing red.

The blond finally sprinted for the creek and the bridge that connected to the path that would lead to his neighbourhood. I followed behind as fast as I could manage. My legs felt like wet noodles and my lungs were screaming bloody murder. When I reached the middle of the bridge, I promptly doubled over and coughed violently.

I stayed like that for a few long moments, my temples pounding. My fingers tightened their hold on my knees as I stared down at the planks that made up the bridge, willing my vision to stop swimming.

Just then, I heard footsteps approaching and suddenly, a small, metal crucifix swung into my view. It glinted in the sunlight, blinding me for a moment.

I looked up.

"Shit, Matty. You _really_ need to stop smoking."

There was Mello, smiling at me as he leaned down to see my face, eyes clear and warm like he was happy to see me – like he hadn't just made me chase him all around about an acre and a half area. And the sad part was I didn't even care.

I smiled weakly and reached out to touch his shoulder. "'Caught you," I wheezed.

He laughed and then offered me a hand.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

In a weird way, it was just like old times as we walked side by side on the path that led to Mello's place. It wasn't really, though, because neither of us could ignore the way our hands bumped each other as they hung uselessly in between us, seeming to know better than us how much they wanted to connect. Mello was still smiling, but there was a tension in his jaw that mirrored the taut wire that seemed to symbolize our relationship.

I was beginning to wish it would just fucking snap already.

But it won't – I knew that – and so around and around this goddamn bush we go again.

We reached the pond a ways off to the left at the point where the path veered off between the fences that bordered the cul-de-sac, and I just stopped. Mello went a few more steps before noticing that I wasn't following, and he turned back to see what I was doing. I gestured to the pond with a tilt of my head before walking over there and unceremoniously plunking down at the water's edge. A few seconds later, I heard the scrape of his shoes on the rocks and then he sat down on the overhang beside me, letting his legs dangle over the edge.

I smiled to myself as I picked up a smooth pebble and let it go with a flick of my wrist, watching as it skipped across the water five times before dropping into the water with a _plunk_. The ripples hadn't even settled when I saw another stone fly out towards the water in my peripheral vision. I turned my head to watch its progress.

Six perfect skips.

I smirked and Mello chuckled.

"Do you remember how when we were little I couldn't even do that?" he asked. "You used to make it look so easy, and I would get so mad because I could never do it right."

I looked over at him, only to meet his eyes. He looked away abruptly, casting his steely gaze out over the water. "You got it eventually, though," I murmured.

He snorted. "Yeah, only because I practiced every single morning for a week…" He trailed off for a moment, and I waited patiently for him to continue. "But when I showed you," he said in a lower tone, "you didn't even react. It was like you just expected that I would do it right eventually, and so it was no big deal when I did."

I bumped him with my shoulder, smiling. "Well, yeah. You wouldn't be Mello if you didn't succeed at everything you tried, right?"

"But I didn't," he said, shaking his head. "Not that time. I didn't want to be better than you or show you up. I think… I think I just wanted you to be impressed with me."

Oh.

I felt the tell-tale heat travel up to my face, and I knew that I was blushing. I felt the truth burning at my lips as I stared determinedly down at my lap. Because I was always impressed by him, and I was surprised that after all these years he never noticed the fact that it was written all over my face.

We sat like that for a while, both in silence, as I cycled through the options of what to say next. I kept my eyes glued to the water, even as I felt the weight of his gaze on me. I watched as a frog made its way through the water, remembering how we used to come down to this exact pond when we were kids for the sole purpose of catching frogs to scare Mello's sisters with. The absolute biggest frog I'd ever caught, however, I named Yoshi and I kept it as a pet for about a year until it – well, _croaked_. Mello had helped me dig the grave which now, a number of years later, resides beneath a weed patch in the corner of my backyard.

Unbidden, a smile rose to my face at the memories of simpler times.

Then, a giant water bug rose from the depths of the water and clamped the frog between its two forelimbs, shattering the illusion. The frog squirmed desperately in its grasp, but it was in vain. Predator and prey slowly sunk beneath the surface until all that was left were a few air bubbles.

I grimaced.

Coughing awkwardly into my hand, I sneaked a peek over at Mello. Seemingly oblivious to the drama I'd just observed, he was looking down at his hands, absentmindedly picking off the last of his black nail polish. There wasn't a trace of haughtiness in his posture, nor was there a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. His eyes weren't two chips of ice, or two flickering flames, or even two bolts of electricity. No – they were the purest shade of blue, as deep as the water we sat above and as bright as the pigment of the sky.

It was strange seeing Mello just be himself.

He seemed very… approachable.

"I'm sorry," I burst out.

Mello's eyes slid over to connect with mine, giving me a long look. I could almost see the barriers rising once more, and I had the distinct feeling that he was sizing me up. If Mello had been truly as feline as his manner suggested, I could imagine that his tail would be lashing right about now and he would be unsheathing his claws.

"For what?" he inquired, his tone cool.

'Like we both didn't know.

"For… For… You know."

He pursed his lips. "I don't believe I do." He crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands, causing his shirt to ride up just the tiniest amount. "So, pray tell, sorry for what? For kissing me in the first place and regretting it, or for liking it too much and regretting that we didn't do _more_?"

It wasn't a flirtation; it was a concentrated slap. I felt my ears burn in response to the taunt, and I felt the anger that I'd been trying to beat down all the time suddenly rise in me like an ugly, black flood. Somewhere in there, jealousy found its way in as I replayed the events from that night in my mind, and instead of myself and Mello, I saw every slut and whore that had ever boasted about having the chance to knock boots with the blond filling in my place. What did it really matter if he wanted to impress me? He always wanted to impress _everybody_. I didn't count any more or less.

Well, if Mello was the cat, and I was the dog that he played around with when he got bored of everyone else, I could play the part. I'd show him that the dog could bite when pushed too far.

"What does it matter to you?" I growled. "It's not like you're short on people to fuck. Or maybe you're just mad because you went after someone in a committed relationship, and even your best wasn't enough to get what you wanted."

His face went white as a sheet, and the anger was made sweet by triumph – but it was all too short-lived. As soon as I saw the naked look of shock in his wide eyes, the anger fizzled away to nothing and the jealousy was trumped by shame. If anyone else had caused Mello to look like that, I would have beaten them into a bloody pulp. But what was I supposed to when the person that had wounded him so deeply was _me_?

"Oh, God, Mells… I'm so –"

However, he was already scrambling to his feet. "So that's what you think of me," he whispered, hair hanging around his face, obscuring his eyes from my view. With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

I jumped up to follow him, afraid that he might run away again and aware that if I didn't stop him now, it could be the end of our friendship.

This whole thing was _really_ not going according to plan.

"Mello, stop!"

To my surprise, he actually did.

I approached him with extreme caution, much like the way someone would try to get near a wounded animal. And just like a wounded animal, he wheeled around to face me, ready to do damage.

"No, you know what, Matt? _Fuck you_," he spat, giving me a hard shove. I stumbled backwards and watched, stunned, as he advanced on me. "You have no fucking idea what I've been through all these years. Yeah, so people make up shit about me, so what? I had you – or so I thought. But it doesn't matter because they can call me a manwhore, a hoodlum, or a pillow-biting _faggot_ if they want to, but it doesn't change who _I_ am."

My jaw dropped. "Mell–"

"I'm not finished!" he snapped. "And you know what else?" He continued in a low tone, his eyes flashing dangerously, "I never slept with any of those people. I never even _dated_ any of them. _They_ said that, not _me_. Maybe you should have been a better friend and actually paid attention to that fact before you started running your mouth about things you don't even understand."

"What are you saying?" I finally got in.

The fight left him as suddenly as it came. "Matt, I'm a virgin," he said, his voice sounding hollow. "And," – he leaned in close to my face so that his lips were almost brushing mine – "I'm gay."

He pulled back to examine my startled expression before turning around and exiting the park. I immediately followed him, doing my best to keep the pace so that I could walk beside him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked gently.

He let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, that's a good one. Why do you think?"

I ignored him. "Halle knows, doesn't she?"

"Yes," he muttered with a scowl, "but not because I wanted her to. She figured it out on her own."

"How long has she known?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Since before I did, apparently."

"When was that?"

"When I was fourteen."

We both stopped.

He stared down at his shoes, refusing to meet my eyes. "It was when I was dating what's-her-face… Marcy whatever-her-last-name-is. She got all pissed at me because she said I wasn't spending enough time with her, and when I didn't respond the way she wanted me to, she accused me of being gay." He shrugged. "Of course, I denied it, but secretly I was wondering if maybe she was right. And when I finally admitted it to myself, everything just seemed to make sense."

I stared at him, my heart beating hard against my ribcage. With a sigh, he continued walking. I didn't even think about it; I followed.

Nothing was said for a very long time after that, and I took advantage of the silence to take inventory of my thoughts – at least what was left of them. Mello had, in effect, shot a bullet through my consciousness, and now I was left to find pieces of whatever made sense within the wreckage. I had no idea how I had left the house today believing that I knew what I was doing. Things had seemed to be going alright for a while, and then everything had gone to hell in a hand basket in a span of five minutes. I just didn't know what to do anymore.

And that scared me more than I would like to admit.

Mello sharply came to a halt some time later and it took me a moment to realize it was because we were in front of his house. I didn't really know if I should go inside with him, or just chalk this up to a loss and continue onto work. I didn't have to make that decision, however, because all he did was stand there, looking like he was deep in thought.

I ran a hand through my hair. "Mello, I really have to go to work now, but I want to talk to you again after my shift if that's al–"

"Why her?" he cut in brusquely, appearing to have not even heard me. "Why now?"

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend." A frown spread across his face and he narrowed his eyes at me, looking like he was trying to make a decision about something.

"Wedy? Uh, I don't know… She asked me out, and well I didn't want to –" What? Hurt her feelings? Disappoint her? They sounded like really bad reasons now that I thought about it. "Well, anyways, I just said _yes_."

"Are you happy with her?"

"I, uh… I – I don't–"

"Just answer the question."

I paused and really thought about it. I swallowed. "No."

He moved towards me then, and I saw in his eyes that he had made his decision. He raised his hands and rested them on my shoulders. Slowly, his hands moved up and pushed my goggles back on my head, before sliding back down so that they were cupping my face. I reacted immediately, almost subconsciously, bringing my hands up to lace my fingers with his. We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, testing where the boundaries lay. Then, I leaned my forehead against his and closed my eyes.

We stood there like that for quite some time, neither willing to be the first to move away.

"What would make you happy?" he breathed against my lips.

I shivered, and it wasn't because of the breeze blowing through. "To stay like this," was what I wanted to say, but I knew it wasn't what he meant. He wanted me to make a choice, but the choice wasn't mine to make yet. Not when there was another person involved.

"For things to go back to normal," I answered honestly.

Mello pulled away, just as I'd expected and dreaded – but it had to be done. He turned around quickly, but not fast enough for me to have missed the unshed, angry tears building in his eyes. I watched his retreating form as he hurried up the walkway before disappearing behind the front door, which he took out his frustration on by slamming it so hard, the windows shook. I stared after him, feeling helpless.

"Matt?"

I whipped around at the sound of my name, only to see Mello's mom emerging through the gate to the backyard. By her pitying expression, I knew she'd heard every single word.

I gaped at her, my mouth opening and closing like some big, dumb fish as I tried to formulate words.

She made to step towards me, and I didn't think twice.

I bolted.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

By some miracle, or maybe just some twisted kind of a joke, I actually made it to work on time. It was just my luck that that seemed to be the only thing that had gone right today.

The first thing that I noticed when I went inside was that only the lights that were on were the ones behind the front desk. Secondly, all of my fellow employees were huddled in a group beside it. As the bell signalled my arrival, everyone turned around and stared at me. Even Justin, the guy who always called in sick, was there; the solemn look on his round, chubby face would have at any other time made me burst out laughing.

As I approached them, I took note of the frown on Linda's face and the way that Near had his hair coiled so tight around his finger.

Oh, crap. What did I do now?

"I'm here," I said. I then pointed at my watch. "See? I'm not late."

No-one said a word. To my surprise, Linda put a hand on my shoulder when I reached the desk and kept it there despite the weird look it prompted from me. I only then saw whom everyone had been gathered around; Touta Matsuda, the owner's son (who was actually the manager, but he always piled all of his responsibilities on Linda), was standing behind the desk, shuffling his weight from foot to foot and pulling at his cheap tie uncomfortably.

"Right!" His voice squeaked on the word, and he cleared his throat, laughing nervously. "Now that everyone's here, I can tell you all the important news."

"This better be good," some tall guy muttered at the other end of the desk. I'd never shared a shift with him (thank God), but apparently we used to go to the same school. Rumour has it that he'd been held back for two years. I could see why; he looked like the type to use his fists rather than his brains.

Matsuda's eyes darted over to him before settling back to the neutral territory of staring at the desk. "Um, well… You see –"

"It's okay, sir, you can tell us," Linda coaxed.

"Okay," he sighed, before hesitating once again. Just when we had all just about had enough, he blurted, "My father has had a stroke."

This set off a flurry of questions from all of us, the most prominent being: "What's going to happen to us?"

"Well, um… That's kind of the part I came here to talk about. This business… this business has been losing profits over the years, and my dad has gone into debt to keep it going. Now that we're facing this crisis, my family has decided to shut it down." He bowed his head. "I'm so sorry, you guys."

Several things happened then: I felt Linda's grip tighten on my shoulder as she let out an exclamation of surprise, Justin burst into tears, the tall guy kicked over a display, and Near – well, Near just _stared_.

As for me, I simply shrugged Linda off and went right back out the way I came in. On the way past the garbage can, I ripped my over-shirt off and tossed it in.

I kept walking until I reached the intersection. I pressed the button to turn on the crosswalk lamps and tried to light a cigarette while I waited for the light to change. The wind had picked up since I'd last been outside, however, and I quickly gave up as the cigarette refused to take the meagre flame that the lighter produced. I stuffed my lighter back in my pocket with a curse.

Just then, Justin came up beside me, rubbing at his puffy, red eyes and sniffing occasionally.

"'Got a light?" I asked around the cigarette in my mouth.

It took some time before he acknowledged me, as if he wasn't sure that I'd been talking to him. "No," he finally said. "Cigarettes are nasty."

"To each his own," I muttered, peeved as I placed the object of conversation back in its carton.

"Can you even believe that guy?" he grumbled, and now it was my turn to wonder if I was the one being spoken to. "He can't just do this to us. We've all worked _so _hard–"

"Justin?"

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow at me, obviously annoyed that I had interrupted him.

"Shut the fuck up."

Thankfully, the light changed at that moment, and I went out into the street without skipping a beat. Justin yelled something to me as I walked away, but I didn't care enough to try to listen.

The whole time I was walking home, I yearned for the solace of my room. The anger was growing again, quicker than I could squash it down, and I needed a safe place to get my perspective back. As it was now, I could barely concentrate.

I caught my mom just as she was leaving for work, nearly walking into her when I opened the front door. I had no patience for giving an explanation right now, so I muttered an apology and side-stepped around her. Her questions that she called to me as I ran up the stairs were just part of the static. I slammed my bedroom door behind me.

With the door as a physical barrier between me and the rest of the world, I had expected to feel at peace. Instead, I suddenly felt the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders.

And this time, I wasn't so sure that I wouldn't crumble beneath it.


	13. Tuck the Darkness In

**Suggested Listening: **_"Tuck the Darkness In"_ - Bowerbirds

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Tuck the Darkness In~**

I wasn't even aware that I was shaking until I fished out my lighter and tried again to light a cigarette. Even with my shuddering, I managed to get the lighter to spit out a few sparks, but it wasn't working any better than it was earlier.

I kept trying, and the lighter kept sparking, and the world kept spinning.

Then the cigarette slipped out of my hand and fell to the blanket I was sitting on. I stared at it dumbly, my vision swimming in and out of focus.

I picked it up in a slow, controlled movement – then I threw both it and the lighter at the wall with a growl that felt almost primal, like it had been physically ripped out of my chest. Afterwards, I felt drained. I drew my knees up to my chest and clenched my hands at my sides, gripping at the blanket. I stared off into space. The edge of my bed, the dresser, the pictures on the wall of the person that I'd gotten into this mess for, and – directly in front of me – the image of myself in the mirror… They all stared back, spiteful and mocking.

I chewed on my lip.

This room that I had called my own for my entire life was suddenly…

Empty. Desolate. Meaningless. Lonely.

But then, not quite.

I shifted so that I was sitting on the edge of my bed, and then reached a hand underneath. It took a bit of searching, but eventually my fingers met the edge of a cardboard box. I sought out the handle and gave it a tug. The box slid out from under my bed and I heaved it up so that it was sitting on my lap.

I sat that way for a while, just feeling the weight of it pressing down on me.

There was a fine layer of dust coating the lid and I stroked a hand over it absentmindedly, my whole palm coming away grey. Finally, shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath and cracked the lid open. When I opened my eyes, what I saw caused my breath to catch. The paper sitting at the top of its contents proclaimed in bold lettering: "_Certificate of Death_." I took it out of the box and laid it face down on the bed beside me.

At least that told me that everything's as it was since the last time I opened it.

As I went through the box, the pile of things that joined the certificate grew and grew. Birthday cards, love letters, even a bill or two – these things didn't belong to me, not really, and so I left them alone. What I was searching for I knew with certainty was at the very bottom.

At last, I felt my fingers brush against leather. Hooking a finger on the strap, I pulled and out came a pair of kid-sized aviator goggles. I smiled at them as they dangled in front of me, much the same way that someone would smile at an old acquaintance that they don't have much in common with anymore. I set them down beside me on the opposite side from the pile.

Right underneath the goggles was a picture frame. A spider-web crack sprawled across the glass, so I lifted it out with caution. Then, turning it over, I undid the fasteners and removed the picture from inside. The back of it read in my mother's curly handwriting: "_Merry Christmas! From Matthew, Angela, and Mail Jeevas_."

I flipped it over quickly, like tearing off a Band-Aid.

In the picture itself, my mother was smiling. Sure, she smiles now – but this picture was evidence that she hasn't been reaching her potential for it for quite some time now. She was holding my hand. I was about three in the picture, and I had possibly the longest mop of red hair that I have ever seen on a kid, and my grin was so big that it made my cheeks hurt just looking at it. I wore the aviator goggles like a badge of honour.

And there, carrying me on his shoulders and looking at my mother like she was the focal point on which his world turned, was my dad.

I traced his features with my finger and left a smear of red behind.

I held up my hand in the light spilling in from the window and watched as another bead of blood welled to the surface. Belatedly, I realized that I must have cut my finger on the jagged glass. I grabbed a wad of Kleenex to clean the picture and bandage my finger with, and then set the picture aside. Leaning back against the wall, I let my eyes fall shut and felt alarmed when my eyelashes brushed wet against my cheeks.

I sat up again.

No – I can't. I promised.

It's funny how the things that we promise ourselves when we are five can make such an impact.

I lifted my goggles and wiped my eyes on my shirt sleeve; I only replaced them when I was sure the feeling had subsided. Looking around at the papers piled up like little walls all around me, I remembered the only time I broke that promise.

I was ten when it had happened. I'd been whiling away another mundane evening by trouncing the Elite Four in Pokémon Yellow for the fifth or sixth time (I still have that Gameboy Colour; its buttons are worn down so badly that you can't even distinguish the 'a' and the 'b' anymore, but I don't dare get rid of it despite the fact that I haven't played a game on it in years).

Up until what happened next, the day hadn't been any different from any other. I'd gone to school, played pranks on the Sixth Graders with Mello, stopped Mello from spitting in Near's lunch when he wasn't looking, hid a comic book inside of another book during reading time in the library, "reorganized" the books on the shelves when the librarian separated Mello and I because we were being too loud, did a half-assed job on my homework even though I could answer more than half of the questions in my sleep, and then – finally – helped my mom make supper when she asked and didn't complain because I knew she was tired from work.

Just a normal day in Matt the Fifth Grader's life. That is, until my mom had decided to go on a campaign.

I couldn't tell you the exact moment I had recognized the scent of smoke wafting in through the window. When I had, though, I jumped up and stuck my head outside to assess the situation, mouth already wide open and lungs full of air in preparation to yell down the stairs to my mom that we would have to haul ass out of the house. Instead, what I had seen was my mom schlepping laundry baskets full of clothes to the backyard, trudging through the snow in her pink slippers to feed the last physical pieces of evidence that my father had existed on earth to the hungry fire roaring away in our fire pit.

The air had rushed out of my lungs like a deflating balloon, and the only thought in my head was that I remembered watching my dad dig that fire pit and had even set some of the stones there with the help of his big hand covering and steadying my own. This thought quickly disappeared, only to be replaced with: "_How could she?"_

Before I'd even known what I was doing, I was down the stairs and out the door. My mom looked up and saw my expression, understanding what I was feeling from the look on my face without me having to say a word.

"Matt, it's time for us to move on," she'd said in a tightly controlled voice. "Your father wouldn't want us to live like this anymore."

I'd stared at her like she had sprouted an extra head before sputtering, "Mom, seriously, I've been fine!"

"But I haven't been, and you shouldn't have to deal with it anymore," she had intoned with a sense of finality. Then, she'd emptied the basket's contents over the fire.

At that moment, I had felt something inside me snap. Turning my back on the image of my father's clothes burning away into nothingness and my mother's dead expression, I had run back inside. On the kitchen counter, I noticed all of the pictures and papers laid out that I hadn't paid attention to the first time I had walked by. Grabbing the empty box next to them, I'd gathered the items together as quickly as I could and put them back in my box. In my haste, I had knocked to the floor the picture frame containing the picture of our family the day that my dad had taken me for a ride on his plane for the first time. Ignoring the glass all over the floor, I'd picked up the frame and put it in the box. On my way out of the kitchen, I grabbed the phone from its cradle.

Back in the safety of my room, I had sat with my back against the door in order to prevent anyone else coming in. I punched the number into the phone off by heart. I hadn't even given a thought to what I would do if someone else picked up as I waited; all I knew is that I was sinking and needed someone to throw me a lifeline.

The phone stopped ringing. "This better be good. I'm right in the middle of studying for the test tomorrow, and if I get a lower grade than Near on it, I'm going to blame you."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

There was silence on the other end.

Then, "Matt, you dork, I know it's you. If you're trying to creep me out right now, it's not going to work; I have caller ID."

"Yeah, it's me," I'd said. "Talk about something stupid. Distract me."

"… What the hell are you talking about? Are you okay?"

All of a sudden, I'd felt the door reverberate against my back as my mother pounded on it.

"Mail, let me in!" she'd called.

"No!" I'd screamed back at her, not even bothering to lower the receiver from my mouth. "You can't kill him! I won't let you!"

Everything went quiet after that. A few minutes later, I had heard my mother's footsteps retreating down the hallway.

"Oh," I'd heard Mello breathe. In response, a strangled sound that might have been a whimper had caught in the back of my throat.

Sometime later he asked, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No. Just… keep talking with me."

He'd chuckled, even though the whole thing wasn't really funny and he knew it. "I was kind of planning on it, Matty."

I'd cracked a smile despite myself, and then the tears finally came. For the next hour, I spent the time listening as Mello told me what his family was doing, what he was planning for a project that we were working on together for school, what Near or some girl had done to annoy him at school that day, and any number of everyday things. Every once in a while, I would interject and attempt to explain what had happened between my mom and me. These attempts were disjointed and incomplete, mostly because I would get too upset to finish, but by the end of it, I think he'd understood entirely.

And it was okay – because it was him.

Always because it was him.

In the present, I fought against the rising lump in my throat. My eyes felt like they were burning, but I persisted in resisting, anyways.

There was a reason I'd chosen my father's name to go by. Everyone had always called me Matt Junior when I was little (mostly because I shared my dad's flaming red hair), but it was more than that. He'd left big shoes to fill, and I'd thought that maybe if I'd tried in another way to be like him, his strength would somehow rub off on me.

My father had taught me many things – not just how to throw a ball, ride a bike, or tie my shoes. He'd taught me responsibility when I'd watched him go off to work each day to work shifts at two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. He'd taught me patience all the times he'd put off obtaining his dream of becoming a full-time pilot because it made less money than what he had currently been doing. He'd taught me love when my mother would be having one of her down days and he would cup her face in his hands and say, "Hey, my beautiful. Have I told you lately how much you light up my world?"

And he'd taught me loss at the ripe age of five when he'd fallen asleep at the wheel after a long day at work and drifted into oncoming traffic, killing him instantly.

Sure, I'd been angry when he'd just suddenly waltzed out of our lives, but I learned how to deal with that, too. I held my tongue when the neighbour ladies would come by with casseroles and condolences, even as they pinched my cheeks and I heard all the things they said about my mom behind her back. I didn't cry when I found my mother falling to pieces on the bathroom floor. No, instead I sat down beside her and held her hand as she weathered the storm; I was the one to tell her things were going to be alright, not the other way around. I never blamed her even though I was scared and she was the adult.

Because she needed me, and I'd already decided that it was my job to fill my dad's shoes.

As for the goggles, I wore them as a reminder of what I had promised. As time went on, they became the barrier between me and the rest of the world, the shadows that allowed me to hide my true feelings – and maybe, the blinders that only allowed me to see what I wanted to see. Aviator goggles changed to rave goggles that fit my adolescent head better, but the intent hadn't changed. And maybe I kept them all these years because even now I believe they were the reason that Mello had approached me that fateful day, pulling them down and looking into my eyes like, "_I see you. The real you. Do you see me, too_?"

I'd always thought that he'd just understood everything about me, even though all I could wish for was to understand everything about him. He just had that way of listening to the little bit I offered of my deepest thoughts, and somehow putting together all the rest. He'd become a part of my family and I, his. Hell, his mother was the only woman that actually tried to get to know my mom. Furthermore, as she had a part in just about every committee around town, she'd shut the gossip up pretty fast, too.

It just seemed like he was everything I wasn't, like we completed each other.

But the idea of being two halves of a whole is pretty hollow when your other half seems to want nothing more to do with you.

And just like that night on the phone, the tears finally came.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

There was a knock at the door. It had been maybe an hour or only ten minutes since I had gone into my room and shut the door behind me; it made no difference to me either way. I did not answer.

The door opened nonetheless.

My mom peeked through the small opening she had made, timid as a mouse. Then, taking one look at me, she let the door swing wide open and crossed the room in four strides, plunking herself down on the bed beside me.

Thankfully, I had the forethought to move the broken picture frame and goggles out of the way before she sat on them.

"Oh, honey…" she said, half to herself. She rested a hand on my shoulder and put a hand under my chin to tilt my head towards her. Even with my lenses obscuring her view, I instinctually averted my gaze. "What's wrong?"

I took a deep breath, considering the question.

Well… a lot of things, really. But I knew that wasn't the answer she was wanting. She wanted to know what was specifically upsetting me right now. There were two options: evade like I always had, or tell the truth and… Then what?

I had no idea what would happen. I had no idea how I could control this situation. But… then again, lying to myself and others hadn't really made things nice and orderly either.

I opened my mouth and looked up at her – and that did it. It just came spilling out of me. "Mom," I said, the word coming out on the crest of a dry sob, "I've really fucked up."

She wrapped her arms around me and drew my head to her shoulder. I didn't resist. "Tell me everything."

I did. Everything from the beginning through to today. I kept nothing out.

I told her how jealous it made me in junior high when Mello talked to anyone else. I told her about all the sleepovers and gym classes that I spent carefully staring at the wall, afraid that if I looked anywhere else he might think I was watching him get changed. I talked about the first day he showed up to school in leather, all the parties that I walked him home from, and that Valentine's Day that we spent together as "friends" even though I still got this enormous Hershey chocolate bar for him and he bought me a game I'd been salivating over for a month. I talked about the party, about the almost-kiss in his basement, about Wedy, about the two kisses at the club, and the argument we had today. Every thought, every spoken word, every action.

And my mom, she listened through the whole thing, stroking my hair and comforting me like she'd never been able to when I was a child.

Suddenly, there were no words left. I stopped abruptly, feeling like a rubber band that is so used to being stretched to its limit finally – slowly, methodically – being released. I waited for her response with dread.

She exhaled in one long breath and ceased the motion of her hand over my hair. "I see your dilemma. First of all, I must tell you that in a way I'm relieved – even though I really shouldn't be."

"Relieved how?" I asked her, incredulous. I straightened up so that I could look at her.

"Well…" She looked suddenly embarrassed and started fiddling with a loose thread on her shirt. "You see, Geneviève called me a few weeks ago, saying that Mello had been acting strangely and that she hadn't seen you in quite a while. In short, she was wondering if you two were having a fight, and if I knew anything about it. I told her that as far as I knew, no, you were not having a fight, and that you were spending all of your extra time with a new girlfriend. After that, she dropped it.

"Then, a week later, I called her back to explain where I'd been and say that I would try my best to attend the next book club meeting. We talked about that for a while, and then got on the topic of you two. She said that she was glad that you had come over for supper and that nothing too significant had changed in your behaviour towards each other. However, she told me that Mello's strange behaviour had continued after you left, and that he was becoming increasingly irritable and secretive.

"I told her what I had noticed had changed about you in particular and we…" – she paused for a moment, biting her lip – "we came to the conclusion that the two of you were secretly dating each other, using the made-up girlfriend as an excuse for the change in your relationship, and that you didn't tell us because you thought we would be angry."

My jaw dropped. "Mom!"

"I know! I'm sorry! It's just that you never had actually introduced me to your girlfriend, and I always suspected that you two would get together–"

"_What_?"

She rolled her eyes before looking at me levelly. "Mail, I know there have been times where I've deserved to get the 'Worst Parent of the Year' award, but I like to believe that I at least know my son well enough to know when he cares deeply about someone. I've known that you're gay for a long time now. I think I knew ever since you came home from the second day of school, talking my ear off about this boy you met that, 'kind of looks like a girl – but he's much cooler than one_!'_

"And I was happy," she said, looking down at her lap, "because when I saw you two together – the way he drew you out of your shell and stood up for you at every turn, and how you would slow him down so that he would think before he would rush into things or calm him down from a temper tantrum with just one look – I knew that you and Mihael would take care of each other."

This time I was the one to put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me, and I saw tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm scared," I said quietly. "I love him so much that it's tying me in knots, but I don't even know what to do about it."

She drew me into a tight hug – and that's when my phone went off. Pulling back, I looked at my mom, asking permission, and she nodded. I pulled it out of my pocket and flipped it open.

**Wedy (11:25):**

_Matt, what the hell!? Why aren't you answering your phone? _

I scrolled back further. The oldest unread message was dated the day that I went to L's.

**Wedy (10:32):**

_So… Did you have fun last night? I hope you're not feeling TOO hungover at work today ;P Remember, Red, the Linda-monster has claws! MUAHAHA_

Then, later that evening, there was another one.

**Wedy (5:18):**

_Hey. My mom wanted to know if you would be available to have supper with us tomorrow. She's making spaghetti with that sauce that you said that you liked :) _

Yet another one the next day.

**Wedy (8:01):**

_Supper was fantastic, in case you were wondering. Thanks so much for getting back to me._

There was even one from earlier this morning.

**Wedy (9:13):**

_Seriously, Matt, I'm starting to get worried. What's going on?_

With that, I dropped my phone onto my bed and let it sink in how much of an asshole I really am. Yeah, that's right. Besides moping around for the past few days and completely fucking everything up, I also had been completely ignoring my girlfriend's existence.

My mom picked up the phone and scrolled through the texts, frowning.

"What should I do?" I asked, watching her go through my phone. It's not like I really cared at this point.

She set it down at her side and folded her hands on her lap. "What do you want to do?"

I buried my face in my hands and sighed. "Everything I do just seems to make things worse… I don't think it's up to me at this point."

"Maybe you're just going at it from the wrong angle."

I stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she started, and that authoritative 'mom' tone that she hardly ever used with me crept into her voice, "I think the first thing you should do is tell Wedy the truth. It isn't fair to keep stringing her along when you don't return her feelings. Also," – here her voice took on a stern edge – "you did cheat on her, and she has a right to know. Anything to do with Mello should wait until you've done right by her."

"I know," I sighed, rubbing at my temples. "I think half of the reason why I haven't talked to her yet is that I'm scared she's going to punch me in the face."

She patted me on the back. "Irrelevant. Here." She passed me my phone.

With my mom watching, I sent off a quick text.

**TO: Wedy (11:30):**

_I'm really sorry. Lots of stuff's been happening. Can I see you tomorrow?_

The reply was nearly immediate.

**Wedy (11:31):**

_Yes. You can come to my place. _

I sent back a generic reply and then closed my phone. I heaved another sigh. It felt like I'd been doing that a lot lately.

We sat in silence for a while.

Then, out of nowhere, my mom said, "Your dad would be proud of you, Matt."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah? How do you figure that?"

She shook her head. "Everyone makes mistakes. It takes a special type of person to admit to them and try to fix them." I noticed her staring at the picture of the three of us, the picture in which we looked like any other happy family, and as she carried on, her voice began to get choked up, "I know I wasn't always there for you when you needed me, and I'm sorry. You had to grow up so fast without hardly any help, and I've always worried about you getting overwhelmed. But you never said anything. And today, I realized how much I've actually missed."

Just like that the tears came back and I lifted my goggles to swipe at them angrily. I was starting to get sick of feeling like a leaky faucet.

I pulled my mom into yet another hug, and we made quite the pair, sniffling away. "It's not your fault, mom. I forgive you."

She let loose a sob and squeezed my hand. We sat like that for a while, and strangely enough, even though we were crying, I felt like something inside of me was mending.

Before too long, though, I could stand it no longer.

I burst out laughing.

My mom regarded me like I had lost my mind before she noticed what was bothering me. Then she was laughing, too.

With one hand, I reached up and tugged my goggles off. At once, my vision was clear again. "Frickin' goggles," I grumbled with a smile, rubbing them off on my shirt. "They keep fogging up."

Still laughing, she got up, wiping away what was left of her tears with her hand. "Alright, I think it's about time I went downstairs and made us some lunch, hm?"

"What about work?"

"'Already called in." She smiled at me and ruffled my hair.

I called to her as she reached the doorframe. "Our manager laid us all off today. The owner had a stroke."

She turned back, her features pulled into an expression of sympathy. "Oh… That's horrible…"

I shrugged. "I feel worse for the owner. I didn't even like the job."

"Still… That's a lot that you've had happen in one day."

I shrugged again. The next moment, I started laughing again for apparently no reason.

She shook her head and started off down the hallway. "Kids."

She probably thinks I'm crazy.

She's probably right.

High on adrenaline, I stashed all of my dad's stuff under the bed again before getting up and walking over to the mirror in the corner. I lifted the hand that I was still holding the goggles in and let the fingers fall open. The goggles fell to the floor. Then, without hesitation, I stomped my foot down on them.

They broke with a _crunch_.

I set them on top of my dresser as a reminder and then turned to look at myself in the mirror. Brown eyes peered thoughtfully, if not a little meekly, back at me. They weren't the bright, laughing green eyes that my father had or the piercing, expressive eyes that Mello has. They were mine, and I wasn't going to hide them anymore.

I grinned and the person in the mirror grinned right back.

It's time to make a new promise.


	14. Blindsided

**Only four more chapters after this one until the end! Thanks for sticking with me up 'til this point :D Also, to all those saddened by the fate of Matt's goggles... Don't worry; they get a proper send-off XD**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Blindsided"_ - Bon Iver

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Blindsided~**

The next morning found me standing on Wedy's front porch, waiting for someone to open the door after I had rang the doorbell. It was nowhere near cold outside, but I had goose bumps and my stomach was unsettlingly queasy.

A minute later I saw the curtain move slightly, and then the door swung open. My stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt.

Wedy was there in the doorway, looking at me calmly – yet I couldn't meet her eye. Instead, I examined her appearance. She was wearing no makeup today, her hair was brushed but not elaborately done, and she was wearing a plain, grey t-shirt and blue jeans.

For some reason, this made her all the more intimidating.

She was real. She was vulnerable. Most of all, I feared that one of the irrational worries that popped up in my head whenever I kissed her could come true – but not in the way I had expected.

I could break her.

"You're not wearing your goggles," she said, interrupting my train of thought. It was only then that I noticed that she was examining me, too. "And you're early."

I felt my face heat up and looked down at my shoes, shoving my hands in my pockets. I scuffed my sneaker on the concrete. "Well, you know me, always trying to make a good impression." As soon as I said it, I winced.

Wedy just stared at me with a look that I couldn't place. Then, she opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in. Once I was inside, standing opposite her in the foyer, she shut the door. Immediately, all the normal outside noises were hushed and we were left in silence.

She was still looking at me – or rather my eyes – with particular interest.

"You look better this way," she murmured. When I didn't reply, she turned quickly, tossing an _excuse me_ over her shoulder, and went down the hallway that I knew led to the kitchen.

I decided to wait there for her in the front hall, listening to the slow _tick tock_ of the grandfather clock sitting in the adjacent parlor. Peeking through the balustrade topping the half-wall next to me, I peered into the living room. I had only been in that room once, but my eyes immediately sought the objects that had made the greatest impression on me.

Against the far wall sprawled a large stone fireplace. Above it hung a trophy deer head; its antler span was quite impressive, but its fake, glass eyes gave me the creeps. On the side of the room that was blocked from my view by the staircase, I knew there to be a wall covered in family photos and an old, decrepit piano that no-one in Wedy's family actually played. In the far corner, locked away in a display case, was an antique shotgun.

Catching sight of it, I grimaced.

It had just occurred to me that maybe I had worse things to worry about than what Wedy might do to me.

I had only seen Wedy's dad twice. The first time was at an awkward family dinner that Wedy had invited me to so I could meet her parents. The first thing he did after greeting me at the door was to offer to show me his gun collection. When I had predictably blanched, he had clapped me on the back and said that I had nothing to worry about as long as I treated his daughter right. Wedy had berated him, saying that she could take care of herself just fine, and the subject was dropped. Then at dinner, the subject of guns was brought up again when Wedy's father, in an attempt to be friendly (which I believe was encouraged by Wedy's mother by the way she had been shooting him looks throughout the dinner), invited me to come to the shooting range with him. I had politely declined, joking that the closest I had ever come to handling a gun was first-person shooter games.

Mr. Kenwood had not been amused.

The next time I saw him was on one of the days that Wedy had invited me over to hang out with her and Halle in the basement. He was in the living room watching soccer on the big-screen TV with a guy that he introduced to me as a co-worker (later, when I had asked Wedy about it, she told me that her father worked as a prosecutor; a fact that had done nothing to put my worries at ease). As soon as he had seen me pass by the living room he had called to me, "Well, if it isn't my favourite nerd!"

Of course, I'd walked over and said _hello_, fully intending to make inane conversation until he tired of toying with me and let me go. Instead, he invited me to sit down and passed me a beer.

At first, I had been confused, but his plan soon revealed itself to me. As the game went on, he kept asking my opinion on what was going on, trying to trip me up by exposing my lack of knowledge about the sport. Of course, I knew enough from watching Mello play and being a natural-born strategist (except when it comes to relationships), but I humoured him. That is, until he began to get on my nerves. Finally, after hearing both him and his friend yelling at the screen for what I believed to be no good reason, I had put on my most pretentious, smart-alecky tone and broke down the current play bit by bit as it was happening on the screen.

When their team scored, I got up, passed my empty beer bottle back to them, and said, "Apparently, video games _are_ good for something."

As I was leaving the room, I had heard his friend snicker. "He got you there."

Again, Mr. Kenwood had not been amused.

So, given the current situation, I'd say if Wedy doesn't get to me first, there's a good chance I'll either be prosecuted for a crime I didn't commit, or I'll be shot, stuffed, and made into a foot stool for Wedy's father to use on a leisurely Sunday afternoon while he peruses the newspaper.

Just then, Wedy came back into the room and motioned for me to follow her, and I left this horrifying thought behind.

I asked as I went up the stairs behind her, "Your parents aren't home, are they?"

"They're at work." Wedy stopped on the landing and quirked her eyebrow at me. "Why?"

Realizing what that must have sounded like considering we were headed up to her room, I promptly turned red. "'Just making conversation."

"Sure…"

When we were inside her room, Wedy sat down on the edge of her bed. She didn't make it clear where I should sit – or whether I should sit at all, for that matter – so I chose to stand. I took in my surroundings nervously; I'd never actually been in her room before.

There were photos of her and her friends put up all over the walls; I spotted Halle, Kiyomi Takada, and Naomi Misora in them quite frequently and Misa occasionally. To my surprise, I spotted Mello once or twice, but I quickly realized that the photos were from parties that Mello had gone to with Halle, and anyone else who'd gone with them would have those pictures, too. A shelf ran the full length of the opposite wall and it was full of trophies: basketball, baseball, gymnastics – you name it. Over in the corner was a desktop computer that looked practically prehistoric, which I knew that she didn't use very often from how many times she had complained about it being so slow. Finally, my eyes fell upon a photo strip tacked up above her desk that Wedy and I got from a photo booth just for fun the first night I took her out.

The queasiness came back full force, and I reluctantly opted to sit in the desk chair. I heard the ticking of a clock again and quickly realized there was one behind me.

Now that I was facing her, I became aware once more that she had been watching me. This time, I met her eyes. I clasped my clammy hands together in my lap and waited for her to break the damnable silence.

Just when it got to the point of unbearable, she did.

"Matt, I'm breaking up with you."

My reaction was to stare at her blankly. I didn't know if it was my imagination or not, but the ticking of the clock seemed to get louder.

And Wedy, well, she looked like not even a bomb could shake her.

She continued, "It's not because you've been ignoring me the past few days; it's because I have a pretty good idea _why_ you were ignoring me. I could be wrong, but even so, I can't deal with this insecurity anymore. I can't be in a relationship with someone that's constantly putting me in last place."

My ears began to ring. I clamped my hands together tighter to stop them from shaking. I forced myself to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Her cool and collected demeanor slipped for a second as her face contorted in a mixture between pain and rage, but she quickly ducked her head to hide her emotions from my view.

"Tell me what happened," she said, looking at the carpet, and the rough edge to her voice was unmistakeable.

I tried a few times to get it out, but all that happened was that my lips shaped the words uselessly, without sound. She looked up, and as soon as I saw the tears on her face, the words came out clearer than I ever thought they would.

"I kissed him."

I had expected her to react violently, but she did the exact opposite. She lowered her head again and rolled her shoulders in as she wrapped her arms around herself, almost like she was pressing tight on a wound to stop it from bleeding. When I saw this, I got up without thinking and went over to comfort her.

She slapped my hand away before I could place it on her shoulder. "Get out."

I stared at her for a few long moments before I did what she said.

I took the stairs two at a time, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth as I heard my blood roaring through my ears.

And the clock, louder still.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock_.

Right as the clock struck twelve, I burst out through the front door and made it as far as the hedgerow separating their yard from the neighbour's before I threw up.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

On my way back home, my phone started ringing. It took me awhile to get it out of my pocket because my hands were still shaking. Finally, I succeeded, and I flipped it open and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" My voice was a little hoarse, so I cleared my throat.

There was a pause before I heard a monotone, "Hello, Matt."

Realizing who it was, I put on an artificially bright tone. "Oh, hey, Near. What's up?"

"Last I checked, the ceiling," he droned, and I could imagine him curling a lock of his white hair around a finger. "Although, if you mean figuratively, then very little. That is why I called you. Now that we are talking, however, a matter has come to my attention. Why does your voice sound so peculiar?"

I stopped walking altogether. "Well… I'm… kind of sad right now."

"I see… Is it Mello?"

I snorted and then chuckled despite myself. "You're not the first to ask that, you know. 'Probably not the last either."

"Hm…"

"You're right, though. That is part of the reason why I'm sad. Although, it could just as easily be due to the fact that we both lost our jobs yesterday."

"Don't kid yourself, Mail. We both know you hated that job."

"Yeah," I said, smiling. I started walking again, picking up the pace.

"If Mello is only part of the problem, might I inquire as to the rest?"

I sighed and gave him a brief summary of the past few days. "I just left Wedy's house. She broke up with me. In a way, I'm relieved… But then I remember the look on her face, and I hate myself."

"Hm…" was his response again.

"'Hm' what?" I asked. "That sounded like a very loaded hum."

"Oh, nothing, really… 'Just that I hate being right all the time."

"Right about what?"

There was another pause. Then, "Mail, I believe it would serve you well to quit feigning ignorance. You have already come this far; don't regress now. Goodbye."

He hung up.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it in disbelief. Shaking my head, I stuffed it back in my pocket.

Near was always an awkward person to talk to on the phone.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

My mom was still at work by the time I got home, so I busied myself by cleaning my room.

No, seriously.

I mean, the parts that Watari was sending over weren't going to arrive at my house until tomorrow, so I couldn't work on my car, and video games were strangely unappealing after the emotional rollercoaster ride I'd just been on…

And, to be truthful, I was getting sick of the mess.

After I was done putting away everything and vacuuming, I lugged my backpack downstairs to the kitchen and set my laptop up at the table. That's where my mom found me when she came home from work an hour later.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking over my shoulder.

"'Looking for jobs." I angled the screen so she could see.

She shook her head and walked to the other side of the kitchen. "You _are_ allowed to take a break between stressful events, you know."

I shrugged.

She opened the fridge door, only to shut it two seconds later. "Darn it. I forgot to get groceries." She turned around with a sly grin on her face. "Care to come with me to the store?"

Shutting my laptop, I heaved a dramatic sigh. "If I must."

She tossed me the keys and I followed her out the door.

"Maybe I can pick up an application while we're there," I said once we were in the car.

My mom just rolled her eyes and smiled.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Right as we turned into the dry goods isle, my mom suddenly asked, "So how did things go today?"

I moved the cart over to the side so that we wouldn't get in anyone's way. "Not very well… I think I really hurt her."

"Matt, that was bound to happen," she soothed, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You did the right thing."

I looked down at my shoes. "Just because it was the right thing doesn't mean that I feel any better for doing it."

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a clamour of voices. Both my mother and I turned our heads to identify the source of the noise.

Just then, I spotted Mr. Keehl rounding the corner. Following right behind him was Mello. At the sight of him, I felt like my heart jumped into my throat.

"Alright, your mother wants pasta for her birthday supper this year," I could hear Mr. Keehl saying as he read the list in his hand aloud. "Miranda and Rosette will go get the sauce and the Caesar salad; please remember to check the expiry date on the salad. Nicolai will pick out the pasta. Mihael, you'll go get the candles and pick out a birthday card since you haven't gotten yours yet."

"What are you going to do, Dad?" Rosette piped up.

"I'm going to order the cake."

Miranda sniffed. "Make sure you order chocolate or Mihael's going to be complaining the whole way home."

During this conversation, Mello had his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his hoodie, looking at the contents of the shelves with apparent disinterest. When he heard Miranda's comment, his eyes slid directly to her. "I don't give a fuck what you get."

With that, Rosette erupted into giggles and Mello's dad reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nicolai just stood there, looking acutely uncomfortable.

"Language, Mihael," Mr. Keehl said, sounding very tired.

The group dispersed, leaving just Mello and Nicolai left in the isle. Mello said something to Nicolai that was quiet enough that I couldn't hear it before he turned around.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. His eyes met mine and I tightened my grip on the shopping cart subconsciously, wishing I still had my goggles.

He started to walk towards me.

My heart rate sped up as the distance between us began to close.

Oh God, what am I going to say? What the hell am I going to do? He's almost here! He's–

He walked right past me.

Unsure of how to respond to such an anticlimactic ending to our encounter, I just stood there – frozen.

"Oh, dear," my mother said.

Nicolai approached a shelf nearby and grabbed a box of fettuccine noodles. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck, looking just as ill at ease as before. I hazarded a guess that he was in conflict as to whether he should acknowledge our presence or not.

The seconds dragged on.

Finally, he turned around and gave us an attempt at a smile that turned out more as a grimace. "Hi."

My mom waved. I did nothing.

He turned on his heel and exited the aisle, turning in the same direction that his brother had gone.

I finally let the tension out of my shoulders and took a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes. I felt my mom put her hand on my shoulder again, but this time I shrugged it off.

"Let's just get this done and go home." I started off with the cart, leaving her to follow me.

I never did pick up that application.


	15. The Middle

**Suggested Listening: **_"The Middle"_ - Jimmy Eat World

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~The Middle~**

"_Her heart beat within her chest like a caged bird. Any attempt to form words failed as she found herself drowning in his shimmering orbs. Her lip trembled as she found it difficult to hold his gaze, and she looked away. All of a sudden, she heard the sound of his footsteps as he crossed the drawing room. He drew her to his chest without warning, causing her to gasp._

'_Hush, dearest,' he soothed. 'I'd sooner be shot in the heart by my own pistol than ever let any harm come to you.'_

_Her cheeks lit up with a ruddy glow at such passionate language, and she refused to look at him. Her good breeding demanded that she maintain her modesty at all times. _

_He grasped her chin gently and she closed her eyes. 'Do you not love me, too?' he asked, sounding half-crazed. 'Have you not been overcome by this wave of feeling? Has it not taken your heart soaring on birds' wings and plummeting into the abyss all in one breadth of time?'_

'_I'm too scared to let it,' she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but one solitary tear succeeded in making a path down her cheek._

'_My darling…' he kissed her cheek, stopping the tear in its tracks. Tenderly, he brushed her hair back away from her face. 'It is not a fear you face alone. Let us fall together.'_

_At last, she let herself look into his eyes, and there she found all the reassurance that she needed. 'Alright.'_

_With great care, he swept her up into his arms and deposited her onto his desk. Some envelopes containing his correspondence with other lords of the land fell to the floor as she took their place, but he seemed hardly aware of it. He pulled off his riding coat and threw it onto a chair. He then loosened his cravat and left it to the same fate. The entire time, she watched him in rapture, scarcely breathing._

_The entire process seemed to her to entirely take far too long, but at last he was left in nothing but his breeches and his Wellington boots. She flushed at the sight of his bare chest which at once set her heart into a flutter. She didn't know how much more she could bear when he returned to her, holding her close once more. _

_With one deft movement, he removed her hairpin and her tresses fell down her back in a cascade. Then, taking a hold of her hands, he pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed the sweet sigh this action elicited. Slowly, he guided her hands over his well-developed abdominals, continuing down, down… Until she finally had enough, and under her own initiative, reached past his waistband and–"_

Okay – what the hell did I just read?

Setting the book down on the edge of my bed, I scowled up at the ceiling.

That's definitely the last time I pick up one of my mom's books. I was now one-hundred percent sure that I never want to find out what goes on at those book club meetings. Just knowing that Mrs. Keehl and my mom read that kind of stuff was enough to send my brain for a loop.

I looked over at the book again and its seemingly innocuous cover which showed a large, English estate and the title _Secret Passions_ in elegant script. With less than a second's deliberation, I brushed it off my bed and onto the floor where it will probably remain for the next few months, gathering dust.

Satisfied, I crossed my arms behind my head and went back to staring at the ceiling.

About five seconds passed, and then I sighed, already bored. Only about a week and a half had passed since the day I'd gone to Wedy's house, and already I was officially out of things to do.

As they always did when I left myself without distraction, my thoughts turned to the situation I was currently in, and I frowned.

Time had seemed to pass by sluggishly after the rapid pace with which it had accompanied the most stressful moments in the last while. The moment I had kissed Mello, my life seemed to have made a sudden about-face. Maybe it was even before that. Maybe my life had been set on this path the day that Mello had approached me in Kindergarten and decided that I was the only person worth harassing.

If that were so, then there must be a way to get through this. Mello and I have been friends for so long now, and have been through so many ups and downs that there just had to be a way to fix this; I just haven't thought of how to do it yet.

And then there was Wedy…

I clenched my eyes shut and swore under my breath as I hit my head back against the pillow I was propped up against.

If there was any part of this situation that I regretted the most, it was what I did to her. If only I had actually paid attention to what was going on with Mello – what was going on with _myself_ – this whole thing would have never happened. Maybe if I'd just kissed him that first time in the basement –

"Matt," I heard my mother say softly from the other side of my door as she knocked once on the wood. She cracked the door open a bit and peered in at me. When she caught sight of my position (sprawled on my bed, clutching at a pillow and feeling generally sorry for myself), she gave me a smile that was a mixture between amusement, exasperation, and sympathy. It was the smile she gave me when I was eight and I had scraped my knee when falling off of my bike after going too fast – right after she had told me not to.

This was different, though; she couldn't just take this away with a Band-Aid and a kiss on the forehead. Something told me that she wished that she could, nonetheless.

I was expecting her to come over and sit on the corner of the bed like she had the last time she had found me like this, but she stayed in the doorway. Part of me was grateful; I was too tired to have another soul-baring conversation right now.

"There's someone here to see you," she said, and then faltered as if she were contemplating going back downstairs and telling whoever it was to come back some other time.

However, as soon as I heard this, I jumped up out of bed. If it was who I thought it was – or rather who I hoped it would be – then I would only kick myself later for turning them away.

I headed down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. My mom had only reached the top landing by the time I had jumped off the last few steps. Grabbing onto the banister, I used it to swing around to face the door – and that's when I caught sight of blond hair.

I froze, and it took a few moments for my brain to catch up to the information my eyes were feeding me.

Standing in the entryway, hand on hip and eyebrow cocked, was probably the last person I had been expecting.

"Hey, Matty-kins," the person simpered, giving me a little finger-wave.

My heart sank to my feet.

Halle Lidner.

My feelings must have been written all over my face because she snorted and then brushed past me, throwing over her shoulder, "Don't be too over-joyed, now."

Shaking my head rapidly in an attempt to get my stuttering thought process back into working order, I turned around to face her. By the time I did so, Halle was already making her way up the stairs and past my mom, who decided it would be helpful to point out where my room was.

If not for the fact that I had just come out to her not too long ago, I would find the fact that my mother was inviting a girl with a mini skirt and an exposed midriff to waltz right into my room quite baffling. Never mind the fact that I was of legal age – that sort of thing is just not standard motherly practice.

When I had reached my room, I found that Halle had already made herself quite comfortable on my bed and was examining her nails while she waited for me. As I walked in, she motioned for me to shut the door behind me. With a sense of trepidation, I did as I was told.

Her eyes flicked up towards me and pinned me with a look. Her tone was crisp and business-like. "As both Wedy and Mello's best friend, I feel the urge to punch you in the face while at the same time am overwhelmed by the need to ask you for details."

I blinked, mentally calculating the distance between us and how long it would take me to open the door – which unfortunately swung inwards – so that I could make my escape. "… Which option are you here for?"

"Both."

Before I could react, she lunged towards me with her fist at the ready and I threw up my arms to block. Wrong move – at the last moment, she changed direction, and her fist collided with my gut. I doubled over with a grunt, and then she was behind me. The next thing I knew, my right arm was being bent behind me at an awkward angle and my face was being shoved into my mattress. I felt her weight settling over my back and I ceased all wiggling as she dug her elbow between my shoulder blades.

I went limp with a sigh that was muffled by my pillow.

Halle giggled, the sound of it musical and in complete antithesis to the strength with which she was pinning me down, and I could clearly imagine a maniacal grin spreading across her face.

Of course the girl that Mello had chosen as the gal pal to his gay B.F.F. would be just as insane as he was. I wasn't all that surprised.

Accepting my fate with as much dignity as possible (which really wasn't all that much), I turned my head to the side so that my cheek was pressed against the bed and I was able to breathe again. My tone was saturated with boredom as I told her, "That was a lot more than a punch."

Another snort, and by the exaggerated movement, I guessed that she had shrugged. "I improvised. Besides," – she dug her elbow further into my back and I gritted my teeth – "this makes it much easier to extract details from you. 'Like pulling teeth – except without the mess."

Oh, yes. I could see why she and Mello got along so well.

Halle's hair tickled my cheek and the mattress dipped slightly as she leaned forward. "So, tell me, Matt… Was there tongue?"

I made a sound in the back of my throat that could only be described as disgusted. Then, after having gathered all of my strength, I gave a tremendous buck. Unlike the times when Mello (who was much closer to my weight) pinned me in our rough-housing, Halle was thrown off. I heard an undignified _uff_ off to my right, and guessed that she had probably landed on the floor.

Sitting up, I ran a hand through my dishevelled hair and glared at her warily. "What are you here for, Lidner?"

Halle rearranged herself so that she was sitting in a more lady-like position (which I was very grateful for) and then responded, "I already told you."

"I know. After which you punched me in the gut and pinned me to a bed."

She pouted mockingly at me. "_Awww_… Is wittle Matty feeling emascuwated?"

"No, I am not feeling emasculated. I just –" I stopped myself and took a deep breath. Don't let her side-track you, Matt. "Please answer the question."

She shrugged. "It's as I said. I'm friends with both Mello and Wedy, and have decided to hold an equal interest in both sides. As you are the common denominator, and are currently leading this shit parade, it only makes sense that I would come and talk to you."

"… What are you talking about?"

Halle gave me a look of utter exasperation. "Do you need me to spell it out for you? Even with the fact that you apologized to both of them, the consequences of all the shit that you pulled are still heavily stacked against you. If one were to do the mental math – factoring in all the pluses and minuses – you would get the absolute value of…"

She scrunched up her face as if in serious thought and muttered a few random numbers. I stayed where I was on the bed, feeling intensely uncomfortable. Suddenly, she froze.

"You're fucked," she deadpanned.

Yes, I know, thank you. No breaking news there.

"But!" she exclaimed and I jumped. She got to her feet and made a grand, sweeping gesture with her arms. "That is why I am here."

There was silence as she was apparently waiting for her words to sink in. I avoided her gaze and instead looked down at the carpet.

Finally, I muttered, "… Why do you even care?"

I heard soft footfalls against the floor and then her hands were cupping my face. With her gentle urging, I looked up and met her eyes. Without my goggles to block my eyes, I felt like she was seeing deep down into my soul – but it was alright. In the depths of her eyes, I only saw compassion.

"Matt," she started, her voice surprisingly serious considering how this encounter had played out thus far, "just think of this as your time where you're strung out on the driveway of life, and I came to find you. It doesn't matter why I care – I just _do_."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but no words came out. I don't think that there were any words to describe what I felt in that moment.

Halle knelt down in front of me so that we were closer to eye level. "Look – I know we never really made an attempt to get to know each other, but you have the good opinion of Mello – and we both know how hard that is to get. Anyone who Mello cares about is okay in my books. It's because of that that I'm here to lend you my shoulder to lean on. I know that you and Mello share a lot with each other, but what he couldn't tell you for… well, obvious reasons – he told me. And since you can't talk to him about what you're going through, I thought I could fill the role."

She smiled at me then and I smiled back. I couldn't even imagine what it was like for her having to hear three sides of the story from equally emotional people and I told her as much.

Halle shrugged, looking entirely unbothered. "I like being in the middle; this way I can help all of you."

Once again I was at a loss for words in the face of her kindness, but she saved me from having to say anything when she jumped up and dusted herself off.

"Now, usually when Mello and I need to have a heart-to-heart we break out the nail polish and ease into the convo by discussing which guy we would rather have stumble in on us in the shower – but something tells me that that isn't going to work with you."

My mouth fell open just a little bit. Too much information…

She giggled at the look on my face before continuing, "A little birdy told me that you like working on your car, correct?"

I nodded. "Yes. Why?"

"Perfect!" Halle clapped her hands together. "Then I have just one more question for you…"

Suddenly, two objects were being shoved in my face and I had to lean back to bring them into focus.

"What will it be? 'Mauve It Like It's Hot' or 'Red-y for Bed?'" she asked, waving the bottles of nail polish enticingly.

I pulled a face that adequately demonstrated my opinion on the matter.

The smile she gave me was the epitome of serene. "No pressure."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Thankfully, Halle had had no intention of applying the nail polish to anyone's nails other than her own, and so I could relax. This wasn't hard to do as I always felt a sense of calm wash over me when I was working on my car; it just kind of came with the territory. Halle also had no trouble with making herself at home, as the moment we entered the garage, she hopped up on the workbench and set to work on painting her nails.

It was quite some time before anything was said.

Halle blew on her nails, catching my attention, and I watched as she extended her hand out in front of her to admire her work. I was surprised by the first thing that came out of her mouth; I had been expecting her to get right down to the nitty-gritty as soon as we got here, but so far it seemed she was taking her time. "I think I want to join the police."

This was a bit of a shock. I tilted my head to the side in confusion, forgetting about my car for the moment. "Didn't you want to be a makeup artist?"

At least, I'd heard her mention that a few times when she, Wedy, and I had been hanging out in Wedy's basement.

She rolled her eyes. "No way. You just saw firsthand how capable I am of kicking ass. If I pursued any other occupation, I would just be wasting my talents."

I smirked, shaking my head. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"'Met some guy at the job fair they were holding at the rec centre not too long ago. 'Really sold me on the subject. And," – she waggled her eyebrows – "he was really cute."

Snorting, I did my best valley girl impression, "Oh, please tell me you got his number."

She chuckled as she finished putting on the second coat. "My dear Matt, don't underestimate me. Not only did I get both his home and cell number, but we've already been on a couple dates and we reached third base in his car the other day – while he was driving." The grin she was donning made her look like the twin of the Cheshire cat. "It was quite scandalous."

My eyebrows bounced up to the point where they might as well have been touching my hairline. "How old is this guy?"

"Somewhere in his twenties, I think. No big _D_," she said, giving a flippant wave of her hand.

I shook my head and focused on working again. It didn't last for long, though, because as soon as I started moving the wrench again, she started snickering.

"What?"

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to hide her smile. "Oh, nothing…"

I shrugged. "Okay." And back to work I went.

"Fine," she groaned. "It's just that I realized that we did end up talking about boys, anyways. 'Kind of funny if you think about it."

I glared at her, trying to think of a response. All I could settle on was a weak, "Shut up."

Halle grinned. "It's weird; you act so reserved all the time, but it's actually really easy to get you talking. Mello… Well, that boy may seem like he has nothing to hide, but you really have to twist his arm to get anything out of him."

"So he's gotten physical abuse from you, too, eh?"

"Nope." She smirked. "He's too quick. In fact, he told me once that the only reason you've ever won in wrestling against him is because he lets you pin him down."

As usual, my face went instantly red at the implication, which of course set her off snickering again.

"You're way too easy to tease!"

So… did that mean that she made that up? I couldn't tell…

"Anyways," she said, hopping down from the workbench, "I'm sorry for making the situation out to be so bad earlier; I just had to give you a hard time. Believe it or not, I think it's actually working out in the best possible way for all three of you."

"Really? It sure doesn't feel like it." I quirked an eyebrow. "By the way… How do you even know what happened?"

She bit her lip. "Well… That's kind of a funny story. See, Mello's been ornery lately – like, way more than usual – and so I haven't been talking to him as much. Giving him some space is pretty much the only way I've found to deal with him when he's putting on a diva act. Anyways, then I found out from Wedy about the breakup, and I figured that it was related. 'Turns out, I was totally right.

"When I asked Mello about it, he got this really weird look on his face. He said, his words exactly, 'That doesn't make any sense.' I asked him what he meant, but he wouldn't say anything. Then, I tried the only thing that might get a reaction; I asked why he wasn't happy about it. That made him really angry. And, well, you know what happens when he gets angry…

"He went on this huge rant about how he'd kept everything so tightly wrapped up for years, trying to keep his own feelings separate from your friendship because he didn't want to ruin it. He said that changed when he noticed you were starting to react to his teasing differently. But then you got involved with Wedy, and, according to him, everything went to shit. He ended it with a bombshell: 'We may have kissed, but it doesn't mean anything. Even if he broke up with her, he didn't want me either. So, no, I'm not fucking happy.'"

With those words, I felt like the world was swaying all around me. Everything I was seeing was stationary, so I knew I wasn't moving, but I had this sinking feeling in my stomach that was very similar to the feeling that I'd gotten the first time I'd ever been on an amusement park ride as a child. I felt like all control was slipping through my fingers like sand.

How did I ever let it get to this point?

Halle must've noticed the emotional turmoil I was in, because she walked over to me and grabbed me by the shoulders, giving me a gentle shake. "Hey. He was angry. You do know that people tend to be reactive and say things that they don't necessarily mean when they're angry, right?"

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "It's not that. It's… Why didn't he ever tell me that he felt that way? Why didn't I realize it sooner? And then the whole thing with Wedy… I'm such a terrible person!"

That's when she slapped me.

Okay, so not that hard – but it was still enough to shock me.

"Enough of the teenage angst already," she said, frowning sternly. "Yes, you went out with Wedy when you liked someone else and then cheated on her with that person. Dick move, yes, but you at least owned up to it. To be fair, Wedy knew what she was getting into when she asked you out, so it's not like–"

"What do you mean she knew–?"

"Don't interrupt. Anyways, with Mello, he did the exact same thing to you; it's not like he ever stopped to consider whether or not he should ask you about your feelings before he decided to take on the role of martyr of unrequited love. The only thing that's separating you two from each other is your guys' own damn pride and love of having something to complain about."

I paused and really let it sink in. It was… very much true. I could try to make up for what I'd done as much as I wanted, but as long as I continued to beat myself up about it, I wouldn't ever move past it or get into a state of mind to do better. Self-pity wasn't accomplishing anything other than wasting time and making me feel worse.

"You're right. So, what do you think I should do?"

Halle shrugged. "To be honest, I don't think it would be so bad if you guys spend some time apart for a while. Get rid of all the emotional baggage and re-sort your priorities, you know? You need to learn to get along with yourself before you can ever make things work with another person."

I nodded. That was probably the best course of action. I mean, I was still afraid of confronting Mello in case I said the wrong thing again, but maybe that was because I knew I wasn't ready yet. Instead of just rushing into things, maybe I should actually figure out what I want to say and, more importantly, what I actually want.

I should probably talk to a few more people, too. Since everyone and their mother apparently already knew about this issue, there were probably other people that have advice that I could benefit from.

This whole conversation was making me look at Halle differently, too. I'd always thought of her as either a) competition for Mello's attention while I'd mistakenly thought she liked him or b) Wedy's friend with loose morals that happened to date a lot of guys. I was realizing now, listening to her surprisingly sound advice, that a person's actions can be viewed entirely differently when you actually know their reasons behind them. Maybe, in time, I'd get to know her reasons just as she was currently finding out mine.

I didn't have an opportunity to think more on these things at the present time, however, because my attention was jerked back to the present when she suddenly hugged me. Taken aback, I didn't react for a good three seconds before I timidly wrapped my arms around her.

She pulled back and smiled at me. "I have faith in you. If you continue to do the right thing, things'll work out just fine. To be honest, your guys' problem is _nothing_ compared to Light and L's– Whoops!" She slapped a hand over her mouth.

I blinked. "I'm not sure I want to know…"

"Good. Then let's just keep your ignorance intact." Halle chuckled nervously. "So, yeah. Topic change, but" – she ruffled my hair – "you look adorable without your goggles. Seriously, I will never understand why you wore those things when you have such a killer pair of bedroom eyes at your disposal."

It's probably not that healthy to have as much blood rushing to my face as I have had lately…

Slinging an arm around my shoulder, she cooed, "_So_ cute. Man… You, me, and Mello will certainly be a force to be reckoned with, eh? I can already tell; this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship."


	16. Friend is a Four-Letter Word

**In the instant message conversation in this chapter, if you notice random 3's just chillin' out in the middle of a paragraph or as part of a username, they are meant to be less-than-three hearts. **

**As always, thanks for reading, everyone! :) We're getting down to the homestretch...**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Friend is a Four-Letter Word"_ - Cake

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Friend is a Four-Letter Word~**

It's funny how when you decide to stop worrying obsessively over things that you actually start to get things done.

… Okay, maybe this is common knowledge for most people – but it's news to me.

After Halle left, I made an effort to finish things that I'd been ignoring for a while and, basically, just enjoy myself. This pretty much translated to me spending the last two days gaming until my thumbs went numb, doing the shit-tonne of laundry that I'd let pile up in my closet, and even helping my mom bake cookies (she coerced me into trying on a pink, frilly apron much to my dissatisfaction; though, I am man enough to admit I looked fantastic in it, thank you).

The only thing I did not do was work on my car. Maybe it's kind of lame, but I couldn't even contemplate finishing that project without Mello. A promise is a promise.

However, there had been one major hiccup in my plan to let things be for a few days. I had logged into my IM account, something I hadn't done in over a year, only to see that Mello was online. I had stared at the screen before slowly moving the cursor over to his username and opening a chat window. Then I had sat there, staring at it some more. I couldn't help but notice that he had removed his picture, which had been of us making funny faces on his webcam. I had deliberated for quite a while before I had finally decided that the first time that I talk to him should really be in person – but by then, a message had already popped up, indicating that he had signed off.

I had felt very frustrated after this happened and was about to sign out myself, when another chat window had popped up on my taskbar. Looking at the name, I'd known it was Misa. I had clicked on it with a sense of trepidation.

**3Superstar3 says:** _matty!_

Sighing, I had put my laptop on my lap and started typing.

**TheMattHatter says:** _Yes?_

**3Superstar3 says: **_were have u been? i heard from lawli who heard from his grandpa that u and mells are fighting!_

**TheMattHatter says:** _Not exactly. It's just a misunderstanding. He's not really talking to me right now, though._

**3Superstar3 says:** _mello can be sooo grumpy… give him chocolate! :) lol_

Despite myself, I had smiled.

**3Superstar3 says:** _OH! And since when have u and wedy been dating?_

And just like that, the smile had disappeared.

**TheMattHatter says:** _Um… Long story. We're not anymore._

**3Superstar3 says:** _:O_

**3Superstar3 says:** _did she dump u? misa can go teach her a lesson if u want_

**TheMattHatter says:** _Uh… no. That's fine. Won't be necessary._

**3Superstar3 says: **_ohhh misa gets it_

**TheMattHatter says:** _…_

**3Superstar3 says:** _u were going out with wedy but mells got all jelly and so now wedy is out of the picture. and u really loved mells the whole time but now he wont talk to u cause mello hates any1 putting him in 2nd place!_

**TheMattHatter says:** _… How long have you all known about this?_

**3Superstar3 says:** _lol! like a really long time. i mean its really obvs if u think about it. theres no doubt that mells flaming but we werent sure about u. i always thought u guys would be cute tho 3 so best of luck! i still say get him chocolate lol_

I didn't type anything for anything for a long time after that. A response hadn't been needed, however, because Misa had taken the hint and changed the subject.

**3Superstar3 says: **_so i dont know if u know but my light and lawli are going to school in japan next year_

**TheMattHatter says: **_That's awesome. Not really that surprising that they got into the program, though._

**3Superstar3 says: **_i know! my light is the smartest person i know 3 im so sad that hes not gonna be here tho :(_

**TheMattHatter says: **_I'm sure you'll keep in touch._

That would be unlikely knowing Light, but I hadn't been about to tell Misa that. Also, I'd wondered if this had anything to do with the "problems" that Halle had mentioned.

**3Superstar3 says: **_oh we will :) but what i wanted to tell u is that this weekend every1s gonna get together on greybrook hill and bury a time capsule thing and have a fire and stuff. mello said he might be there ;)_

**TheMattHatter says:** _Yeah, I'll come… Will Wedy be there, too?_

**3Superstar3 says:** _um probs…_

**TheMattHatter says:** _I see._

**3Superstar3 says: **_so ya lol bring something good! gtg toodles xoxo_

Almost immediately, she had signed off, and I had been left with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The morning of the third day, I was woken by the distant sound of music. The more I regained my consciousness, the louder it got. At first, I was all for stuffing my head under my pillow and getting some more sleep, but then it occurred to me that it might be my phone ringing. Once I had considered that possibility, I immediately recognized the song I used for Wedy's ringtone.

I jumped out of bed and snatched my phone off my dresser, pressing it to my ear just in time. "Hello?"

"Uh… Hi." There was a pause. "Matt, is that you? You sound different…"

"Sorry," I said, then cleared my throat. "I just woke up."

"… You do realize it's noon, right? Isn't today one of your workdays?" A critical note crept into her tone, making it almost sound like she was scolding me.

I ran a hand through my hair, which – of course – was made even messier than usual by sleep. "Not anymore. Everyone got laid off. The store is closing down."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry… but, uh, why did you call?" I asked, looking about my room awkwardly. "Not that it's a problem or anything…" I flushed, all too aware of how much that sounded like an afterthought. It didn't make a difference, anyway; it's not like she could actually see my face.

She didn't answer me right away, but when she did, she completely caught me off guard. "Do you think you could meet me somewhere? You know, to talk."

"Um… Sure. Where were you thinking of?"

"The bleachers by the football field, maybe…"

"That's fine," I said without thinking. A part of me thought it was a little strange that she was calling me like this after how angry she had been, but that component of it piqued my curiosity, too. "I'll see you in twenty."

She hung up without saying goodbye. After that, I threw on some clothes, wrote a note to my mom to let her know where I'd run off to, and then set out for my old school.

I guess I really am a masochist.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

By the time I reached the football field, my curiosity was pretty much trumped by an intense feeling of anxiety. With each step, the feeling that I should turn around and go home became stronger. However, I resisted. Avoidance was what got me into this whole mess in the first place, and it was seriously time to man up.

Besides, if she didn't punch me when I told her that I had cheated on her with my male best friend, I doubt that she would do it now.

… I hope.

As I walked towards the stands, I was blinded by the sun. I shielded my eyes against it (yet again missing my goggles) and carried on walking. It was only as I ascended the steps that I spotted Wedy sitting by herself at the very top, watching my approach while casually smoking a cigarette. I noted that she was back to her usual attire.

She pushed her sunglasses back onto her head and held out the cigarette carton to me as I got closer.

I grabbed my own cigarette pack out of my pocket before sitting down next to her. "It's okay; I won't be mooching this time." I smiled at her, but her expression remained completely blank, and I quickly dropped it in favour of looking out over the field in front of us. After a time, I lighted a cigarette and allowed myself to sink into the quiet.

Wedy didn't leave me in suspense for long. Her cigarette burned down quickly, and as she stubbed it out, she rasped, "Don't think that me inviting you here means I've changed my mind; I'm still mad at you."

I watched her as she glared out into space, choosing not to say anything. I don't think she wanted me to, anyway.

She pursed her lips. "The worst part is, it's not really because you cheated on me. It was because I always knew it was going to happen at some point. Everyone always thought you and he getting together was inevitable – some people thought you already had. I was just the interlude, the girl who really should have known better." As she talked, she twisted a large ring around on her finger. The knuckles on her other hand were white from the tension.

Still, I said nothing.

"You know when I first started liking you? After that presentation that you and Mello did in Chemistry. All people could talk about was the fact that Mello had finally gotten a better grade than Near in something – but I knew the truth; you were the one that devised the whole experiment. I saw you working on it during lunchtime when I went back to the classroom because I forgot my textbook."

She looked over at me, possibly gauging my reaction, and I shrugged. "Mello had bronchitis at the time; I knew that Mello would want a good mark, so I picked up the slack," I explained. "Besides, it's not like I did everything. Mello was the one that formed the hypothesis that we wanted to test, and he wrote the whole lab report."

Wedy shook her head. "Regardless, it made me see you in a different light. I used to think you just didn't care about anything, but when I saw how much effort you put in to help your friend without expecting recognition, that completely changed. I started asking Halle what she knew about you, and the more I heard, the more I realized just how much I had misjudged you. I even tried to talk to you a few times, which I'm sure you don't remember…"

I tried to think back, but I couldn't remember it any more than I could the other everyday conversations I had had with my classmates that year. Even though she'd expected it, I still felt guilty.

The corner of her lips turned down into a scowl. "Mello was quick to pick up on my crush; if I so much as approached the two of you to ask for a pencil, he would give me a death glare. Whenever I ate lunch with Halle, and you guys happened to be there, he would always be hanging all over you and whispering in your ear while giving me a smug, sideways glance. It drove me nuts. But when I ranted about it to Halle, all she said was that I should probably stay out of it. Obviously, I ignored her."

She paused to light another cigarette. I waited as she took a few drags, looking like it dissatisfied her, but it was as if she was persevering out of habit more than anything else. She finally stopped her incessant twirling of her ring, and I realized for the first time that it was a mood ring. What didn't surprise me, though, was that it was a dark, dismal black.

Wedy continued, "I know I was being naïve. I mean, I built up this story in my head that you were this really deep, sensitive guy that was just being held back by your shyness. I thought if someone could crack you out of your shell and encourage you to stop depending on Mello so much, you would be much better off. And, you know, maybe on some level that's true – but I still didn't account for the fact that maybe you were the way you were by choice.

"You were too oblivious, anyways – about both Mello's feelings and my own. It's not like we could've asked you which person you preferred because you weren't even aware of our competition in the first place. That's why we started racing bikes on the highway. It went past hating each other for liking the same person; we just couldn't stand each other."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't know."

She glared at me, somehow affronted. "Stop saying sorry for things that aren't your fault. It's really annoying."

I wisely said nothing, and she started speaking again.

"Mostly, I was just really mad because I couldn't understand why you said _yes_ to going out with me when you didn't even feel the same way. I felt like you thought I wasn't even good enough to be told the truth. But my dad," – I flinched – "said something that made a lot of sense to me. He told me that you have to love people for who they are, not for who you think you can make them into. Sometimes it's better to just accept things as they are instead of resisting and trying to make them exactly how you want them." She bit her lip before lowering her head, letting her hair cover her face from my view.

"When I told Halle after L's party that I was thinking of asking you out," she continued, "she again told me that I should let it go. I was angry, and I told her that I would give you the choice and see which option you would choose. But I had this idea of who you were, and what you were supposed to say, and I guess I made that pretty clear when I asked you. I can't exactly be mad at you for giving me exactly what I wanted. So… I guess… That's why I wanted to talk to you today: to let you know that I don't think you're a complete bastard."

"Oh… Well, um… Thanks," I said.

She nodded.

By this time, my cigarette had burned down to the filter and I crushed it beneath the toe of my boot. I exhaled slowly, turning over everything that she had told me in my head. I heard her shift next to me, and I looked over at her. For the first time during this entire conversation, we met each other's eyes.

Wedy narrowed her eyes at me. "What are you thinking? You always just sit there, brooding, and it's like you expect me to fill in all the blanks. Just tell me for once."

I ducked my head and looked down at my lap. Stalling, I picked at a hangnail. I could feel the weight of her gaze on me like an actual physical presence, and my comfort level was dropping fast.

Okay. You know what? Fuck this shit.

I looked her straight in the eye. "Do you want me to tell you the truth?"

"Raw and uncensored." Her lips twitched up at the corners almost imperceptibly. "Do your worst."

I took a deep breath. Then…

"You actually sound a lot like how Mello talks about Near."

Her eyes widened.

"See, for them it's grades," I continued on, my anxiety dissipating with each word I forced out of my mouth, "but it's not at the same time. It's just a stand-in; for Mello, an A represents physical proof that he's special and that it's actually worth it to be who he is. Validation, you know? That's why it bothers him when Near seems to just have things easy. And I think – remember you told me to be honest – that maybe that sense of being special is what you were trying to get from me.

"I know that this is not what you're going to want to hear, but I have to say it…" I turned towards her, and she avoided looking at me. "I'm not proud of what I did to you. In fact, it ranks near the top of the things that I've been beating myself up over for the past while. I really do like you as a person – and you're right; I should have never strung you along like I did. It was wrong, and I fully admit it. I've been lying to myself and others for a long time – but I've been trying to change that.

"And don't think either that I kissed Mello just because you didn't measure up in some way. Because of my mistakes, the relationships that I had with the both of you got tangled in ways they never should have, and I'm sorry for that."

As I finished speaking, I noticed the tears running silently down her face, and I reached out and placed my hand over hers. She jerked her head to the side, but she allowed my hand to stay where it was.

"Wedy…" I pleaded, "Please look at me."

She did, and despite her tears, her gaze was unwavering and strong.

I softened my expression. "Don't you see? It's me that's not good enough for you – not the other way around."

She hiccupped in response, and I smiled.

"Shit… Stop being so nice," she moaned. "It's really not helping."

"I'm sorry," I said, pulling her into a hug.

All of a sudden, I felt a minor pain in my shoulder as she smacked it with her palm. I pulled back in surprise.

"I told you to quit saying sorry." Wedy glowered at me as she wiped away the last of her tears.

I smirked, just asking for it. "'Sorry."

Yeah, that whole 'Mr. Kenwood is not amused' look? Wedy totally inherited it.

After that, I joined her in having one last cigarette, the entire time watching her while she pretended to not notice me. Finally, I wore her down and she plucked her cigarette out from between her lips, stuck her tongue out at me, and then primly crossed her legs, angling her body away from me. I laughed, finding this incredibly funny.

She huffed, trying hard to hide her smile. "Man, you're annoying… Forget I ever complained; I'm sure you and Mello will be perfectly happy together."

I smiled, but this time it was half-hearted. God knows we're nowhere near that point.

"So… you're okay with this?"

"I never said that." Wedy furrowed her brow. "I'm just not raging mad anymore. That's progress, right? And maybe – in time – we can be… friends."

I was taken aback by this, but I got over it quickly. This conversation had certainly turned out differently than I had thought it would. I guess you just can't go around in life thinking that you know everything.

I bumped her shoulder with my own good-naturedly, smiling. "I'd like that."

For the first time today, a true smile lit up her face. Then, her demeanour did a one-eighty again as she groaned jokingly, sounding put upon, "I guess that means I'll have to make an effort to get to know Mello, too."

I laughed. "Just be warned; he has a bad habit of growing on you without you realizing it."

She snorted, hiding her smile behind her hand as she reached up to take her cigarette out of her mouth. "'Like a tumour."

It descended into silence after that, but it was a comfortable one. It was strange, but I realized that this was the most at ease that I had ever felt around her. As we sat there in the warm afternoon sun, watching the clouds and jet trails slowly dissolve into the blue, one thought remained clear in my mind.

Life never turns out the way you expect.


	17. This City's a Mess

**Suggested Listening: **_"This City's a Mess"_ - Said the Whale

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~This City's a Mess~**

The day before everyone was meeting up to bury the time capsule, I woke up much earlier than normal. A blurry-eyed glance at the clock told me it was just before six. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was already alert and whirring, and I could find no solace.

I threw back the covers, letting a blast of cold air into my cocoon. I'd left the window open last night to combat the heat, but as it always did at this time of year, the weather was having mood swings. Frankly, the telling nip in the air left me with mixed feelings.

Summer's coming to an end.

After crawling out of bed, I pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and went to sit on the window sill. I lit up a cigarette, using a coffee cup I'd left on my desk to tap the ashes into. I stared out into the cold morning, watching the sky light up in pinks and oranges as the sun peeked over a neighbour's roof.

Just on the other side of that house was the park, where Mello was probably jogging on through right about now just like any other day. I could imagine his blond hair tied back (along with the feeling that always rose up in me at the sight of it, a need to pull it loose and a peculiar twinge of curiosity of what it would be like to run my fingers through it), and his eyes lit up with first determination and then anger. The latter was a result of the words that had spilled out my mouth that day, those very words that now I would give anything to take back. I remembered the way he had run from me. Sure, he had come back for me on the bridge, but we both knew that it hadn't really changed anything; we had already slipped through each other's fingers a long time ago.

It hurt to think about that day and all that we'd said to each other, but I couldn't let myself forget. 'Cause just like I knew that I wasn't the boy with the goggles who didn't care and wasn't cared for in return, I knew that he wasn't the rough-edged boy with the cold eyes that had brushed past me in the supermarket.

No matter how much he wanted me to believe otherwise.

There was a part of him that would always retain the openness and warmth he'd shown me as a child the day that we met. This flashier version that wore leather like armour, like a second skin; that was armed with barbed words and an acid tongue; and that rivalled me for the sin of lying by omission – was just a façade that he'd fabricated to protect himself from those who sought to tear him down. Remembering what Halle had told me, I wondered if he thought that in a way he'd been protecting me, too.

If anything, that had been our problem; we'd done such a good job of building up walls that we'd even succeeded in keeping each other out.

That's why I couldn't forget the pain I'd seen in his eyes that day. Just for a moment, his façade had cracked, and I'd caught a glimpse of what he would never allow to be put into words. It gave me hope.

Because if he cares that much, then anything is possible.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Two hours later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, surfing the web on my laptop and finishing my second cup of coffee. My mom walked in just then, caught sight of me, and stopped in her tracks. A few moments were spent just looking at me in bemusement before she walked over to the fridge.

"Awake early again, hm?" she tossed over her shoulder. "Should I be worried? It'd be nice to know if you're planning another mission to beard the Mello-lion, if that's the case."

I downed the last of my coffee, making a face as I tasted the dregs. I gave her my cheeriest smile, regardless. "Morning to you, too. Coffee's in the pot, and I made you breakfast. It's under that lid over there."

"Oh… Well. Thank you." She turned around to face me and blinked. "You didn't answer my question, though."

"'Couldn't sleep is all. It's funny that you say that, actually. Mello's middle name is Léandre; it means 'lion man'."

Her back was turned to me once again as she grabbed her breakfast, but I could still hear her snort. "And you know this how?"

"It was an assignment for English one year. We had to team up and do a report on the origin and meaning of our partner's name. Get this: Mihael means 'who is like God'. Mello got a kick out of that."

"I can imagine. So, together it's 'lion man who is like God'… Interesting. I guess that makes him Aslan."

She said this in such a breezy tone that it took a moment for it to sink in. When it did, I couldn't contain my laughter.

There was a twinkle in her eye as she sat down across from me. "And fancy that – you recently came out of the wardrobe!"

"Hah-hah, very funny." I tried to look angry, but each time I looked at her, I was thwarted by the urge to smile.

She took a sip of her coffee, the rim of the mug concealing her self-satisfied grin. "Oh, I know I'm funny; no need to state the obvious."

"Just eat your breakfast," I insisted.

She did, but I had to put up with her grinning the entire time. Thankfully, I was distracted by a pop-up on my computer informing me that I'd just received an email. I opened it up right away when I saw whom it was from.

"So, what do you have planned for today?" she asked sometime later. "You know, besides stopping by Narnia."

I ignored the latter part of that in favour of answering the former. "I'm going to lunch with Near. I left a message on his phone yesterday, asking if he wanted to go, and he just got back to me."

"Oh, that's nice. I hope you two have fun." She got up to clean up the dishes, but I beat her to it.

"Here. Let me take that for you."

She gave me a warm smile, settling back into her seat. "Thank you."

"No problem." I set them in the sink.

As I turned to leave, she called to me, "Matt!"

"What?" I asked, looking back in confusion.

She looked pointedly at the sink and then at me. "Don't you think you're forgetting something?"

I blinked. "Um… no?"

She sighed, shooing me away with a wave of her hand. "Never mind. It's progress."

With a shrug, I left the room and went upstairs to kill time before I would have to leave.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

At eleven fifty AM, I left the house. Since my mom had the day off (a pretty rare occurrence as of late), she insisted that I take the car. To be honest, I think she was glad to have the house to herself for a while.

It didn't take me long to get to my destination. While I waited for Near to show up, I leaned against the side of the car and smoked. Across the street, the video store where I used to work was stripped of all signage and from what I could see through the windows, the inside seemed to be gutted. A fold-up sign out front proclaimed in bold lettering: "STARBUCKS coming soon!"

I smirked mirthlessly around my cigarette.

It was like the final insult.

I wondered what the old owner thought of his store becoming just another corporate accessory, which in turn made me wonder how the owner was doing. I'd never personally known anyone who had a stroke, so I had no idea what to expect. I made a mental note to ask the next time I run into Matsuda around town.

Just then, I spotted Near walking up to the crosswalk on the other side of the street and dropped my cigarette, crushing it under my shoe. We greeted each other with little more than a nod as we each fell into step with the other.

We reached the café and grabbed a seat out on the patio. I looked around for a few moments, taking in the scenery, when I noticed Linda coming out the door, carrying plates. She walked past us to the family sitting two tables behind us and set the food in front of them.

I quirked an eyebrow and said to Near, "Linda's got a job already?"

He nodded. "She is quite resourceful."

Linda walked over to us then, a friendly smile on her face. "Hey, guys!" I noted the way she rested a hand on Near's shoulder and my eyebrow rose again.

She took our order and then hurried back into the building. I watched her go, amused and just a little weirded out. "Something happened between you two, didn't it?"

Near twirled a lock of his snow-white hair innocently. "Loose lips sink ships, Mail."

I rolled my eyes. "And clichés make my ears bleed," I quipped. "What else is new?"

Another one of the waitresses came back with our drinks then, and we went quiet while we watched her place them in front of us. We thanked her and she gave us a polite smile before going on her way.

Near rested his chin on the heel of his hand and removed the umbrella from his lemonade, examining it indifferently. "I believe you asked me here for one reason and one reason only, and that is to hear my advice on the situation between Mello and yourself." He looked up at me. "Correct?"

I shook my head rapidly. "No, no – that's not it. We can talk about anything we want to. What's going on with you–?"

"Matt," he cut me off, his dark eyes flashing. "You are the only person who can stand to be around Mello for any real length of time without feeling the urge to punch him in the face; this was bound to happen eventually."

I exhaled and looked down at the table.

"He's not all that bad," I said quietly.

"I never said he was," Near conceded. "There are just people who are suitable for each other, and those who are not. For example, Mello says that he finds me 'repulsive' and 'excruciatingly annoying'. Besides the fact that I am heterosexual and he is a male, we would otherwise still be completely incompatible as mates.

"On the other hand, Linda has told me that my company is 'entertaining' and our conversations are 'enlightening'. I am sure that the qualities that Mello sees in you are much closer to the latter example than the former."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "… Something totally happened between you and Linda."

Near continued on, ignoring my comment, "To be frank, this whole situation could have been avoided if you had just told him at the party that you wanted to have sexual intercourse with him."

My jaw dropped, forming pretty much the most perfect rendition of a D-colon face ever. All I could manage was a pitiful, "Oh my God, _why_?"

He ignored me once again and just_ kept on going_. "It is amazing that this has gone on as long as it has. He has always pursued you aggressively, but ever since we entered high school and the dress code relaxed, he has been strutting around in that leather get-up of his like a peacock during mating season. In particular, the outfit he was wearing was beyond provocative that day he came to see you in the video store after acting like a sulking, jilted lover when you started going out with Ms. Kenwood. And you," – he paused, looking me right in the eye as my face continued to get redder and redder – "_You_ were practically salivating.

"Sorry to use such colloquial language, but I am glad that you finally got the balls to kiss him, because I assure you that we have all had enough of you following him around like a panting golden retriever, and neither of you making the move when it was so obvious that _neither_ of you had anything to lose."

I sputtered for a few moments, before finally setting on a very loud, "Near, what the _hell?_"

The corner of his lips twitched into a little smirk. "Calm down, Matt. People are starting to stare."

I shrunk in my chair and furtively glanced around.

"Now," he said, taking a sip of his lemonade. "As for the matter of Mello forgiving you, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

I took the first drink of my soda. "How do you figure that?"

"Mello has his pride, but he knows when he is wrong," Near reasoned. "In any case, he will come back to you if only for the reason that, like I said, you're the most suited to be with him romantically – and to be fair, he's the only one who has the tenacity to continue to smack you in the face with the obvious when you're intentionally being oblivious."

Cue deadpan. "Why, thank you."

I hope he sensed how sincere and heartfelt that was.

"You're welcome." Not a hint of sarcasm.

That's right; it's Near I'm talking to…

He cleared his throat. "Since you were going to ask me about myself before I interrupted you, I might as well tell you now. I am going to university in the fall; my brother is paying for it. Also, Far is getting married."

My eyes widened in surprise. "Near, that's awesome! Congratulations! Where are you going? And uh," – I cleared my throat uncomfortably – "Far's not marrying that blonde chick he almost got arrested with in New York is he?"

Near pursed his lips. "No, that wasn't a serious relationship; he said that he ended it that night."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Then why are the tabloids still saying that they're dating when they broke up months ago…?"

Near sighed. "It's a long story. I will get to that in a moment. First, I will answer your earlier question. I am going to the university in the city, I am going into the criminology program, and I will be living in Far's old apartment. He isn't using it currently, but apparently he still keeps up the rent for when he wants to come and visit. That has yet to have happened – but I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose."

I frowned. "It's kind of weird that Far's just suddenly choosing to act like he cares about you after the way he's treated you."

"I was wrong about him," Near admitted, a distinctly sad look in his eyes. "He has been sending me letters for years. I found them the other day in my parents' closet, in one of my mother's old shoeboxes… There were so many of them in there; it took me a long time to read them all." He swallowed, trying to cover up the fact that his voice was starting to waver. "He had been offering all the time to get me out of there, and I never knew… The only reason why I got that birthday card was because it was mailed under his agent's name. He left the birthday card unsigned in case my mother opened the envelope."

He exhaled audibly, and I stayed quiet because I sensed that he had more to say – and, to be honest, I didn't even know what to say to that. I always knew that Near's parents had issues, but I didn't think that they could be that cruel.

He continued, "This time, I intercepted the mailman when he arrived in front of my house. The latest letter from Far was the one that held the information about his upcoming nuptials. The envelope also contained this."

Suddenly, he was holding a photograph right in front of my face and I had to lean back to bring it into focus. My mouth fell open a little as I realized what I was looking at.

The photo was kind of grainy, probably taken with a cell phone, but I could still make out a lot of the details. Far must have been the one who took it, because his arm was outstretched as if he was holding something and he was grinning like a fool. He was cozied up to someone who was covering their cheeks with their hands – the red of their blush still visible through the cracks of their fingers – and they were smiling shyly.

The person with him in the picture was definitely not blonde.

Nor was it a girl.

"Holy shit," I said.

Near sighed. "I thought you would say that."

He turned the picture over and in Far's messy scrawl there was a message that read: "_Surprise! Sorry I didn't tell you earlier."_

I blinked rapidly, utterly confused.

"It's not the first time Far has surprised me, nor will it be the last," Near stated resignedly. "According to the letter, the man's name is Alfred – but he prefers Alfie. The news will hit the tabloids tomorrow. I'm also moving out tomorrow to avoid the backlash from my parents."

"At least you have the time capsule thing to look forward to tomorrow." I chuckled nervously.

It was a lame attempt at consolation and we both knew it.

Near just stared at me, unimpressed.

A scraping sound distracted us momentarily from our conversation. I looked up to see Linda plop down in a chair that she had pulled over, apron in hand. She discarded the garment on the table, looking exhausted.

"_Whew_, that shift was _brutal_." She looked over at me and smiled, gaining her energy back in a snap. "Hey, lover boy. How's the Mello issue coming along?"

Oh, for the love of –

"What is this, gossip club? How does everyone know?" I aimed an accusatory glare at Near.

Near just smiled.

Linda giggled with glee. "Chill, Matt. Only our circle of friends knows."

"Once again: how?"

"Simple. Wedy changed her relationship status on Facebook, Mello dropped off the face of the Earth, and you cycled between looking like you were solving the mystery of life and looking like someone had just broken your laptop deliberately right in front of you. We just inferred the rest."

…

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Okay," she admitted. "Halle filled us in. She didn't tell us everything, though!" she exclaimed when she realized I might take that the wrong way (as in, exactly the way it sounded). "Everyone else just thinks you two are fighting, but I got the full details because I nearly nagged her to death."

'Sounds like something she would do.

I pushed at the bridge of my nose, expecting to feel my goggles there, and put my hand down awkwardly when I remembered. I _still_ wasn't used to the fact that I wasn't wearing them anymore…

"Still," I sighed. "Why is everyone treating our lives like a soap opera?"

Linda had the audacity to look embarrassed then, and Near answered for her, "Everyone will be venturing out into the world soon, and they will lose interest when they get involved with their jobs or schooling. That or another drama will come along. It's just the hangover from high school."

I exhaled again, the force of it lifting up my bangs, and I laughed a little. "I guess."

I sat up, suddenly remembering something.

"By the way, what's going on between L and Light?"

Near and Linda shared a look before Linda placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Matt," she said, "that's just not something that is open for discussion."

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

After talking with Linda for a while and having lunch, Near decided it was time for him to go home. I offered to drive him, and he reluctantly agreed. Before I got into the car, however, I ducked into the florist's that I'd spotted across the street while we'd been eating. Fortunately, they had exactly what I'd wanted, and two minutes later found me getting into the car with my purchase in hand. Near, who had been sitting in the car during my absence, plucked the box and the receipt out of my hand without preamble once I was settled in.

He made a show of perusing the receipt, smirking that damn little smirk of his. I refused to look at him, instead choosing to put the car in gear and back out probably faster than I should've.

Near waited until I was on a straightaway before he said anything: "Fifty-six dollars for a box of chocolates… Matthew, I am impressed."

I remained silent, glaring straight ahead of me.

"I couldn't help but notice," he went on, "that you didn't adhere to the 'two month's salary' rule."

I snorted. "I bought him a box of specialty chocolates, not a diamond engagement ring."

A smile curled slowly across his face. "With Mello, aren't they of equal value?" Of course he was twirling his hair, too.

"God, I hope not." I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm trying to soften him up, not _fatten_ him up."

"I'm going to remember that in twenty years when Mello has sugar diabetes and not even your smoking habit will combat the pounds put on by your low-activity lifestyle."

"And I'll remember _that_ when you eventually die from lead poisoning from all the times you've put those toys of yours in your mouth," I shot back.

His face went blank and the motion that his left hand was making in his hair ceased abruptly. "They are action figures, not toys, and collecting them is a perfectly normal hobby for an eighteen-year-old male." It seemed that he was going to leave it at that, but then he suddenly muttered, "And I do _not_ put them in my mouth; that must be some sick fantasy that you and Mello conjured up."

I burst out laughing. When I finally collected myself, I quirked an eyebrow and caught his eye in the mirror. "Not even Optimus Prime?" I asked with a smirk.

He glared – and not just your average, run-of-the-mill glare either. Caps lock, bold, italics, underline, and duck for cover. Seriously, even Mello might've baulked had he seen Near's expression right then.

Christ, I hope Linda never asks him that question. Glare at a girl like that and it's a sure-fire way to get dumped.

You know, besides cheating. But let's not get into that again.

The neighbourhood that Near's family lived in wasn't exactly the nicest in town. It was the kind of place where you avoid your neighbours and never allow your children outside to play. The trailer park in this area was home to our town's transient population – but Near's family had been living there since before either of us was born and had never moved since.

Part of their financial situation was Near's parents' fault and some of it wasn't. When Near had been little, he'd been very sickly. He used to get lung infections and the like all the time, but in third grade, he got a fever that had turned his hair white – literally. He'd gone into the hospital for a time, and Near's mom quit her job so that someone could be with him at all times. Then Near's dad got laid off because the auto parts factory that he worked at was closing down, and he took to drinking. He also took to hitting his wife, and then she was drinking, too. The only reason the police were never called was that no-one could ever prove that it was happening; they never hit their kids (as far as Near had told me) and his mom always spit venom at anyone that asked about her bruises.

But we all knew the truth.

The night that Near, Mello, and I had given each other our nicknames was particularly memorable for more than just the obvious reason. It had been the first time that either of us had hung out with Near outside of school – and the events that had precipitated it had been good nightmare fodder for my then nine-year-old mind. All I remember about how it started was the phone rang, Mello picked it up, and then he hung up not even a minute later with a grim look on his face.

"I gotta go get my mom," was all he'd said.

Fifteen minutes later had found us waiting outside of Near's house in Mello's mom's car. Mrs. Keehl was somewhere outside, her movements made indistinguishable to us by the darkness and the thick rivulets of rain that had been running down the windows. I can still remember the constant _schwick-schwick_ of the wiper blades, and how white Mello's face had looked and how large his pupils had seemed in the pale-green lighting from the dash. Suddenly, the door had opened and a sopping wet Near had slid in.

When Mrs. Keehl had got in shortly after, Mello had asked, "Aren't you going to call the police?"

No-one had bothered to explain to me what was going on, but by that time I'd guessed that it was pretty bad. I'd wisely chosen to keep my mouth shut.

"No, I won't." Her tone had been clipped, making it clear that there would be nothing more to say on the matter.

Next to me, Near had breathed a sigh of relief.

Before we'd left, I saw a light go on and off twice in the house. Near had pressed his hand to the window in response. I didn't get long to think on it because just then, Mello's mom had put the car back in drive and drove us back to Mello's house as quickly as possible. I'd chosen to forget about it that night in favour of helping Mello cheer Near up. I think the only reason Mello had started on the rant about our real names is because it wasn't a very serious topic. Near had even cracked a few smiles in response to Mello's wilder suggestions for nicknames.

Thinking on it now, I wonder if it had been Far that had turned on the light, a signal to let his little brother know that it was okay to leave him behind, that he'd be fine. I would never find out for sure, however, because Near would never volunteer that kind of information unless he thought he had a good reason.

In the present, I pulled the car up in front of Near's home. It looked a lot less menacing in the daytime (not to mention that I'm another nine years older since that first time). More than anything, it just looked run down with its hail-damaged siding, cracked paint, and abundance of weeds covering the lot. Near's mom was leaning against the railing on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

I took in her scowl which deepened into a look of disdain as she identified me as the driver. I looked over at Near. "You don't have to go in there. You could stay over at my house tonight."

"Mail, I appreciate your concern," he said with a crisp edge to his voice, "but I have been living here for eighteen years; I think I can handle one more night."

I shook my head. "You don't owe them anything, Near – especially not after they lied to you."

He was quiet for a few moments. Then he murmured, "I don't expect you to understand, but… I still love them. I would like to say goodbye."

"Okay. Just… call me if you need to."

Near gave me a jerky nod before he climbed out of the car. His mother watched his approach up to the house with a neutral expression. When he was close enough, she stamped out her cigarette and opened her arms wide. They hugged before going inside together.

I drove back home with my thoughts whirring in my head. After all the things that had been happening lately, I felt both exhausted and exhilarated.

I don't know for how much longer I can keep this up.

As I turned a corner, the chocolate box slid off of the divider and into my lap. Smiling, I picked it up and tossed it gently into the backseat.

Tomorrow, I promised myself. I'll tell him tomorrow.


	18. Feel You in My Bones

**Information about the sequel is posted at the end.**

**Suggested Listening: **_"Feel It in My Bones"_ - Tiësto feat. Tegan and Sara

* * *

**Feel It in My Bones**

**~Feel You in My Bones~**

The sunset was stunningly beautiful on the day that we were all meeting up to bury the time capsule. The sun had been just casually flirting with the horizon when I had gotten into the car to leave, but by the time I was halfway to the hill, the sight of the dying sun setting the sky awash with oranges and reds had caught my eye in the rear view.

It was like the standard scene in historical dramas where the sun sets over a city in ruins. Sure, it represents the ending of a civilization that got its ass handed to it by the principles of Darwinism – but if you want a more metaphorical way of looking at it, it also represents the ending of an era.

That's what this sunset that I was seeing now kind of made me feel.

But just like how the sun sets only to rise again, I know that whatever comes to an end tonight will only lay the path for a new beginning – as cheesy as that sounds.

Speaking of romantic language that stinks like the fumes of expensive _fromage_ (yes, I'm being facetious), I am severely lacking in it when it comes to what I plan to say to Mello. But that's actually a good thing. That's not to say that I won't spew out possibly the sappiest things I have ever said in my life when it comes time; it's just that I haven't worried about it. I'm planning to just take things as they come and speak from the heart.

Which is well and dandy except for the fact that I have no guarantee that he's even going to show up.

As I got out of the car, I caught sight of Misa running towards me, waving energetically.

"Matty! You came!" She reached me just as she finished speaking, and she threw her arms around my neck, causing me to emit a surprised grunt at the strength of her grip.

I smiled, wheezing, "I did say that I would."

Misa giggled and loosened her grip – if only slightly. "See? This is why I say you're kind of like my boyfriend. Misa-Misa can always count on Matt!"

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could say anything, a voice sounded out from behind me. "Hey, Matt."

Misa froze at the intrusion and pulled away completely. Now that I was free, I turned around to see who was there; my smile did not waver as I caught sight of them. Misa looked between us with apparent confusion.

"Hi," I said.

Wedy glanced at the look on Misa's face before saying to me, "We've already got all the food set up, but the fire's not started yet. Care to lend a hand?"

I rubbed my hands together. "My expertise is at your service."

Wedy snorted. "'Nothing like a caveman to start a fire." She flashed me a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, yeah." I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Lead the way."

As we continued on our way up the hill, I looked back over my shoulder to see Misa still standing there, looking as nonplussed as a newborn kitten. I just shrugged as if to say that I didn't understand it either. After all, it's true. I have no idea how I had managed to patch up our relationship; though, I have the feeling that it had more to do with Wedy's determination not to lose face more than anything that I had said.

We reached the lookout point not too much later. As Wedy had said, all of the food was set out on the metal picnic table and a cooler was parked beside it. There was already a fire pit all ready to be used since someone had made one out of a rusty wheel well eons ago, and sitting right beside it was the bag of firewood that we would be using. As I looked around the site (most often used by the horny teenagers of our town as a make-out spot), I had the feeling that our party probably wouldn't be broken up by the police even if this spot was designated as a family-friendly scenic lookout more appropriate to picnics than drunken shenanigans. I guess when the party's in honour of the police chief's son and the grandson of the man that makes the biggest donation to public works, you don't run into much resistance.

I turned to Wedy. "Where's everyone else?"

"I have no clue where Light and L went off to; they were just here a minute ago." She put her hands on her hips and looked around. "Linda's on her way to pick up Near, Kiyomi went for a walk, and Misa's standing down where there's cellphone reception so she can nag the people who haven't gotten here yet. And Halle is–"

"Right here!"

The shout came from right behind me, and I nearly jumped right out of my skin. I spun around to face Halle, only to see that she was doubled over in laughter, holding her sides.

"That was so worth it!" she hooted, wiping away fake tears.

"Just you wait, Lidner," I growled without any real malice, "I'm going to get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm so scared!"

"Whatever," I said, shaking my head. I couldn't keep the grin off of my face all the same as I turned back to Wedy. "Anyways, we'll need kindling before we can get the fire going. While I arrange the firewood, do you mind collecting some?"

"Sure."

"Try to get the driest stuff. Maybe even something with some dried-out moss on it, if you can; that burns the best."

Wedy nodded and went off into the bushes. I kneeled down beside the fire pit and split open the bag of firewood with my pocket knife. As I set to work placing the logs in the pit, I heard the crunch of gravel and then Halle sat down on a stump next to me. We stayed like that in silence for a while, just her watching me while I worked.

After some time, I cleared my throat and looked up at her meekly. "Any word from Mello?"

She rested her chin on her two hands, framing her smile. "Maybe one or two."

"Well… um… What did he say?"

She sighed. "He's afraid."

I blinked up at her. Like hell Mello was afraid; that just did not compute. "Of what?"

"You."

"_Me_?" Even more unlikely.

"Of course. You've got him by the heart, boy."

I just stared at her.

"Like a child," she muttered, shaking her head. Then she said, "See, whenever someone challenges Mello physically, he just gives them his _grr_-face and they pretty much back down. But you know all his cards, have already called his bluff, and he's scared because you've made him vulnerable in way that no-one else has before. Like I said, you have him by the heart," – she sniggered – "and probably the balls, too."

Making a face at her, I got up and dusted off my hands. "Very funny."

"I thought so." She got up and followed me as I walked away. "Don't you see, Matt? It's your move."

I nibbled on my lip, looking out over the town below us. We could just barely see the sun now as it was swallowed up by the hills on the other side of the valley, but its light still reached us just fine.

"I know."

Halle slung an arm around my shoulder. "So do something about it!"

I frowned. "But… I'm afraid, too. He's always the one that makes all the moves, and I just respond. I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Driving over there's a good start."

I thought about this for a few moments before shaking my head. "No. I'll wait until awhile after dark, and then if he's still not here, I'll go to get him. I know he wouldn't miss out on saying goodbye to L."

Halle pulled her arm away and just looked at me squarely for what seemed like a long time, but was really only a few seconds. The determined set of her chin was so similar to the way that Mello looked sometimes that it caught me off guard.

"Fine," she said at last. "You do what you feel is best."

I watched her as she walked away, feeling uncertain if I even knew what that was.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

It was now quite some time after dark, and still I had not made my decision. As far as I knew, everyone that had been invited was here now – all except for Mello. Every time the thought popped into my mind that I should really go and get him, an excuse popped up just as readily as to why I shouldn't. He could already be on his way over, and if I drove there now, I would miss him; yes, Misa, he hasn't answered your calls, but maybe his phone just died; no, Near, I am not reverting to my role of the panting golden retriever waiting at his master's beck and call; and goddammit, Halle, stop looking at me like that!

Blah blah blah… The award for the biggest chicken shit goes to me.

At one point, I was sitting around the fire and talking with Linda and Near. When the conversation came to its natural end, they shared a look with each other and got up to go somewhere together. Left without a distraction, I went over to the food table. I wasn't even particularly hungry (especially not when my stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of food as I got closer), but it was different than sitting around the fire with everyone else, all too aware of the person that was missing.

Kiyomi Takada was standing by the table when I got there, preparing a bun for the hot dog that she'd just cooked. We said hello to each other, but little else. Yet another person that I spent a lot of time around, but knew barely anything about…

Suddenly, I heard Kiyomi scoff, and I looked over. "Would you look at that," she muttered with a dark look on her face. "I wonder when she's going to wise up."

I followed her gaze and was met with a scene that did nothing to abate my confusion. Over by the fire, Misa, Light, and L were all sitting next to each other. Misa was snuggled up to Light's side, content as can be. The only problem was, Light didn't even seem to notice or care about her existence; he was too involved in talking animatedly to L. Just then, the marshmallow that Light was cooking caught fire. L leaned over to blow it out without anything having to be said, and then Light grabbed the marshmallow between two graham crackers. He passed the S'more to L with a strangely tender smile. L took it, and I couldn't tell if it was the firelight that made his face look so red or something else. Light licked the sticky remains of the marshmallow off of his own fingers with a smirk and L's gaze snapped back to the fire.

Realization dawned as I watched this interplay, seeing what I had never bothered to notice before.

"Oh."

"I am so glad I got out of that when I did." Kiyomi was shaking her head.

I looked back over at her. "Really? Um… no offence, but… I kind of thought you were jealous of Misa."

Her eyes widened. "Me? No way. Light's a prick."

"Well, yeah." I laughed. "I knew that much."

Kiyomi smiled at me, her dark eyes becoming much warmer. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't be hanging around my ex. We always just ran in the same circles: debate team, student council – you name it. Even though we both graduated two years ago, we have all the same friends, so I'm still stuck with him." She paused before saying, "Wedy told me about you guys breaking up. I think it's nice that you can still get along so well."

"Did she tell you what happened?"

Kiyomi shook her head no, and we went quiet for a bit. I looked back over at L and Light and remembered what Halle had said about Mello and I's problem not being as bad as theirs. Without even thinking about it, I started talking.

"I'm gay – but I bet you knew that."

I looked back over at Kiyomi to see that she was just staring at me with wide eyes. "No, actually…" she said. "I've never given it that much thought."

I flushed with embarrassment and laughed nervously. "I'm sorry. It's just that when I've told other people, they've all said that they already knew."

Kiyomi smiled again and, seeming to give it a moment's thought, she put a hand on my shoulder. "Well, I try not to jump to conclusions. Maybe it's the investigative journalist in me, but I prefer cold, hard facts to speculation."

"Good to know," I said, returning her smile.

Just then, Halle and Wedy walked up and we both looked over. Halle had that big, bright grin and that rosy complexion that she always got when she'd been hitting the booze hard. On the other hand, I could tell that Wedy had had hardly anything. In fact, I don't think that I'd even seen her smoke all night. She looked pretty relaxed, to tell the truth.

"Matty-boy," Halle slurred, "it's almost eleven and Cinderella's late for the ball. As much as I love playing Fairy Godmother, Prince Charming needs to get his ass in gear and fix this on his own – or else I'll be forced to turn you _both _into pumpkins."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I deadpanned, "but you don't have that power."

This didn't deter Halle in the slightest. "No – but after a few beers, I'll believe I do, and that's good enough for me." She slid past Kiyomi on her way to the cooler. "Ex_cuse_ me," she sing-songed.

Kiyomi shared an amused look with Wedy and me before going back over to the fire pit.

I said to Wedy, "You wouldn't mind if I went and got him, would you?"

She put her hands up in front of her as if warding me off. "Hey. I already gave you my blessing, therefore washing my hands of this issue. If that's all that's holding you back, then I think you're stupid."

"Yeah, seriously," Halle chimed in. "I told you to take some time for yourself, but I didn't mean a million years."

I sighed. "It just… never seemed like the right time."

"You guys have had thirteen years of 'not the right time'," Halle said. "It's time to seize the day."

Wedy crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me. "Carpe Diem, Matt."

"Amen to that!" Halle shook up the beer in her hand, cracked it open, and quickly pressed it to her mouth. She downed the whole thing, foam and all, and let out a whoop. "Man… Why do I have a feeling that if I get drunk enough tonight, I'm going to end up with those two words tattooed on my ass?"

"Keep that to yourself, Lidner," Light remarked snootily as he walked up to the table.

"Oh, c'mon, Mr. Straight-laced…" Halle slinked around the table and pressed herself up against his side. She cooed in his ear just loud enough for us to hear, "Loosen up."

Light jerked away from her with a look of disgust, and Halle exploded into giggles.

Over by the fire pit, Misa stood up with her hands on her hips. "Hey! You better not be hitting on my boyfriend, Halle!"

"Oh, I wasn't," Halle said. "Light was just telling me about this tattoo he was thinking of getting: a _W_ on each ass cheek. And when he bends over…" She looked over at Wedy and they exclaimed in unison, "Wow!"

Light's face cycled between a wide range of colours before settling on an unhealthy shade of puce. "I did not!" he squawked in a most undignified manner.

By that point, everyone was laughing. What caught my attention, however, was L; he wasn't laughing the hardest or the loudest, but his laugh was distinct enough that it cut through the rest of the noise.

Light's glare made it apparent that he had noticed, too. "You _would_ find that funny, wouldn't you?"

"L is such a pervert," Misa sniffed.

Unbothered by this comment, L went on leering at Light, biting the end of his thumb. Light took only a few seconds of this before he huffed, crossed his arms, and turned away from him.

Chuckling, I made sure that my car keys were in my pocket before saying, "Yeah… I think I'm gonna go now."

Halle clapped her hands, grinning. "Good luck!"

Light looked up from his task of putting food on his plate and raised an eyebrow at me. "Good luck with what? Where are you going?"

"To go claim his pretty, pretty princess," Halle said.

Light popped a chip in his mouth, the sound of it a perfect rendition of that crunch that you only ever hear in chip commercials. If there was anything that I could give Light credit for, it would be his perfect hair and his ability to eat chips like a boss. I don't know how far these qualities will get him in life, but apparently far enough if his admission to that program is anything to go by.

"Oh, that," he said. "'Don't care." With that, he walked back to his spot (more like throne) by the fire with his plate of low-fat, magnificently crunchy chips.

Another wave of anxiety threatened to overtake me and I looked over at Wedy. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Wedy groaned. "_Yes_, Matt. For Christ's sake… Quit stalling, or else I'll drive you over there myself. Won't that make for the most awkward confession ever?"

It only took imagining the pissed look on Mello's face if he saw Wedy sitting in the driver's seat to convince me. "… Right. 'See you."

I turned on my heel and set out at a brisk pace back down the side of the hill. As I got halfway down the path, I heard Misa yell to me, "Don't forget the chocolate!" I gave her a thumbs up and kept on going.

When I reached my car, I happened to look out towards the clearing, and I saw Linda and Near standing together. Their faces were both turned up towards the stars. One of them must have said something, because they were suddenly looking at each other. Linda reached up and lightly touched one of Near's white curls, and he closed his hand over hers. Then, he leaned in and kissed her.

I couldn't help but grin as I got into the car and started up the engine.

If he can do it, then I can, too.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Parking in Mello's driveway, my heart must have been going a hundred miles an hour. After turning off the engine, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I told myself over and over, "You can do this. You can do this." I don't know if I really believed me, but I stepped out of the car either way.

As I made my way up the front walk, a terrible _crash_ behind me rent the air and I whipped around. From what I could see in the light from the streetlamp, something had knocked over the Keehls and their neighbour's garbage cans. I saw a shadow darting across the lawn towards me, and then whatever it was winded itself around my legs, purring loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Goddammit, Jazz," I muttered, leaning down to pet the tabby.

Jazz tolerated this treatment for a good thirty seconds, tilting his chin up so I could give him the love that he thought was his by birthright, before he turned his claws on me. Experience taught me that this was coming, and I pulled my hand back just in time.

"Little fucker," I said. There was an almost affectionate tone to my words. Hell, I have to admit it.

I even missed his cat.

Jazz trotted away towards the garage, his tail held high. Just before he turned the corner, he looked back at me over his shoulder, his eyes flashing eerily as the light glinted off of them. As he went around the edge of the house, he flicked his tail once as if to beckon me.

Oh, what the hell.

I followed.

The tabby stopped dead in his tracks in front of the gate to the backyard. I knew that the cat was more than capable of scaling the fence, but he seemed to have no intention of doing so. Instead, he sat down, wrapped his tail primly around his paws, tilted his head back, and made the most obnoxious sound that I have ever heard come from a living thing.

Panicking, I quickly reached over the top of the gate and undid the latch. Jazz immediately ceased yowling and padded through the open gate. He spared me one last long look before slipping in through his kitty door on the side patio door.

I stood still for one excruciatingly long minute, waiting to see if anyone had stirred in response to the cat's racket. I couldn't hear a thing.

Apparently, everyone living at the Keehl residence is just used to Jazz being a pampered little nuisance.

At the other end of the backyard, I could see the lights from their pool casting a soft glow over their lawn. In the corner was the tree house, the 'No Girls Allowed' sign still hanging limply from the window like a relic of a not-too-distant past. I chewed on my lip, feeling angry with myself.

C'mon, Matt. Do you really need a cat to tell you not to be a pussy?

That decided it. I walked into their backyard with big, determined strides, letting the gate swing shut under its own power.

Light spilled out from his bedroom window and onto the lawn. The curtains were open and shadows fell across the grass as someone moved about inside. Picking up a sizable pebble, I chucked it at his window. It made a satisfying _ding _as it bounced off.

I stayed in the shadows, waiting with bated breath, until finally I saw a figure appear in the window. The artificial light behind them framed their silhouette like a halo, and I let the air rush out of my lungs. The window opened slowly – too slow, I thought in my apprehensive state – and I took the opportunity to step out into the light.

Mello leaned out the window, a quizzical look on his face as he peered into the darkness. His expression quickly changed to one of surprise when he saw me before finally being schooled into indifference.

"What the fuck do you want, Jeevas?" To anyone else, the words would have sounded biting, but I could hear the underlying hint of curiosity in his tone.

"Why don't you come down and find out?" I called up to him. I bit my lip nervously as soon as the words came out; I was in no place to be making demands.

Then, a voice piped up from the background. "Who are you talking to?"

Mello whipped his head around, his blond hair catching the light with the action. "Fuck off, short stop. This doesn't concern you."

Even from where I was standing in the backyard, I could hear Rosette scoff and I imagined her placing her hands on her hips in indignation. I made out something that sounded vaguely like, "What's in it for me?"

"Five bucks if you scram right now," Mello hissed.

Rosette must have left because Mello was facing me once more. My hands were starting to feel clammy as I felt him staring me down with his sharp, intelligent eyes, and I rubbed the sweat off on my jeans.

I have to do this – no matter what.

The blond quirked an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well," I started and then faltered. "Well, I suppose I could sing to you. We both agree that my singing voice is pretty bad, but it's the thought that counts – right? I kind of came right here from Greybrook Hill, so I didn't really have time to grab a boom box… That's what they do in all the movies, anyways: hold it above their heads and stand there looking like dorks. At least I have the latter part down… I don't know. I didn't really think this through–"

There was confusion written all over his face as he blinked rapidly. "Matt. What the hell are you talking about?"

Great. I just had to have a case of word vomit at the worst of all moments, and now I was about to make a complete ass of myself.

I took a shuddery breath. "What I'm trying to say is – I'm completely messed up over you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, and my thoughts are running in circles. It's like my body's gone into withdrawal, and my head's finally getting the message that my heart's been screaming this entire time."

His face was bright red – brighter than perhaps even my hair – but I had to say it.

"Mello, I love you."

Silence. My heart felt like it was going to hammer its way out of my chest and just lay there pumping my supply of blood out onto their freshly cut grass. At least that would be acutely less uncomfortable than waiting for his response.

"You stupid fuck," he finally ground out. I shut my eyes as a sense of dread washed over me, resigning myself to the verbal abuse I was about to endure. "You come here after you completely rejected me; rubbed salt in my wounds by trying to apologize, but still managing to insult me in the process; and now you're trying to re-enact some cliché out of every bad '80s movie in existence. On top of it all, you're treating me like I'm a fucking chick. I should come down there and punch you just for that alone."

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of my grinning lips. As strange as it sounds, considering the circumstances, that was as close to a _you're forgiven_ from Mello as possible. It didn't mean that he wasn't still angry (I'd been a bit thick-headed, after all); it just meant that he was willing to give me another chance.

I was elated.

"Does that mean you will come down, then?" I asked, smiling up at him.

He returned my smile with one of his own, laced with exasperation. "Yes, you idiot."

Only a few seconds passed as I waited for him to come outside, but it felt like an eternity. I heard the sound of the gate opening at the side of the house and then heard rapid footsteps. I caught sight of Mello right before he rammed into me. We fell back into the grass together, and I was sure that he was going to kick my ass – when he suddenly kissed me.

The ground underneath us was cold and hard, but he was melting into me, and his fingers were twining in my hair, and his mouth tasted like chocolate in a way that I knew I would always find endearing. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and when I pulled him closer, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest.

It just felt right.

He pulled back gasping, his hair hanging around our faces like a curtain. "I hate you," he whispered. "I hate your stupid hair, and your stupid goggles, and your stupid freckles that only show up in a certain light. I hate how oblivious you are, and how you poke your tongue out the side of your mouth when you're thinking about something. I hate how you have such a big heart, and how you care too much about freaking _everything_, and how your whole face lights up when you smile. I really hate your eyes."

In an uncharacteristically tender manner, he brushed my bangs out of the way and gazed into my eyes.

"I hate how stupidly happy you make me."

"I love you, too," I responded, fervent. My voice might have wavered a little, but I didn't care.

I leaned up and kissed him again, and this time our desperation simmered down into a slow boil that lay a warm feeling over us like a blanket. So far, this was my fourth time kissing Mello. This one was different, however, because unlike the other times where we were practically trying to devour each other like a man who had been lost in the desert for so long when he finally finds water – we knew we could take our time with it. This kiss was a promise of the many others to come.

Eventually, we disentangled and picked ourselves up off of the ground. It was probably the first time ever that I didn't hear Mello complain about grass stains. I told him that everyone was still waiting for us if he wanted to come with me and bury the time capsule, and he agreed. We walked towards the gate, close enough that our hands brushed but neither of us made the move to connect them yet.

As I turned, I caught sight of Rosette standing in the kitchen window, grinning from ear to ear and giving me the thumbs up.

Smiling to myself, _finally_, I laced my fingers with Mello's and started off for the car.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

We were perhaps halfway across town when Mello suddenly cleared his throat. He'd been abnormally quiet for the entirety of the ride so far. I immediately looked over at him.

He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and then closed it while averting his eyes. I could clearly pick out the individual emotions as they crossed his face. True to form, he eventually settled on muscling through whatever doubts he had, because he jutted out his chin and opened his mouth to speak again.

"You look good without your goggles," he stated matter-of-factly.

I smiled, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing. "Thanks."

I already suspected that that wasn't what he really wanted to say, and he only confirmed it when he sighed and glared out the window. I put all of my focus into my driving for the next while, letting him decide whether he would say whatever it was he had on his mind.

I didn't have to wait long.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

I blinked. "For what?"

"For… for being such an asshole." Mello scowled. "I know I acted like this whole thing was your fault, but it wasn't. I just… was really jealous. It was wrong, but I felt like we belonged to each other or something. Just me and you against the world, you know? So when Wedy came along, I felt threatened – like I had to do everything in my power to secure my place." He exhaled loudly and ran his fingers through his hair in an impulsive motion. "I _threw_ myself at you, for Christ's sake.

"So that's why I acted so cold towards you. I was mortified by what I had done and terrified that you wouldn't want to have anything else to do with me anymore. The only way to make myself feel better was to be angry. I know it's irrational, and stupid, and a number of other adjectives that I don't give two shits about naming at the moment – but that's what I did. And I ended up hurting you because of it. That's why I'm sorry.

"The worst part is, if you hadn't shown up at my house tonight, I would have come out there anyways and made a complete fool of myself. So, this is kind of a half-assed apology all the same since at the beginning of the night, I was still resolved to act like a slut just to get your attention. You're not an object, I know that, and don't think that I think I can just get you to do what I want all the time either. Shit… 'Cause seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you."

By this point, we'd reached the turn-off just before the hill, and I pulled off to the side some ways away from the intersection and parked. I looked up to see that he had been watching me, a distinctly anxious look in his eyes.

"It's okay, Mells," I told him, trying to soften my tone as much as possible.

He brought up a hand once more to run it through his hair, and I saw that his nail polish was chipped like he'd been picking at it this entire time. "No, it's not."

"Mell–"

"No!" he snapped. Then, looking embarrassed by his outburst, he carried on at a much quieter volume. "I'm sorry – again. I should have just told you how I felt when I realized it. I _still_ haven't said it. I've implied it, but a damn lot of good that's ever done us."

I couldn't help it; I laughed. His eyes flitted up to meet my own.

"You won't believe how many times I've told myself that," I said, "but I've finally come to realize that it doesn't do any good to fret over the things you haven't done. You can only rectify it in the present. Do you think we were ready to admit how we felt when we were fourteen? I sure as hell wasn't. I mean, c'mon, I didn't even admit to myself that it was strange that I liked how you looked in leather," – Mello smirked – "when I was supposedly straight, until L's party just after graduation."

He looked back down at his lap where he was indeed picking at his nails, but I could see the corner of his lips tilt up.

He chuckled. "This is weird; I'm not used to you being the philosophical one. You're usually such an idiot about these kinds of things."

I grinned from ear to ear. "'Just doing my job."

Mello laughed then, and I rejoiced that I'd been able to cheer him up. Just as suddenly, he stopped and looked straight at me. I was disconcerted by the seemingly bipolar shift to sobriety, but I was determined to hold his gaze, anyways. It seemed that he had decided something of utmost importance.

His eyes softened a little bit, only slightly, but they had all the same. "I love you."

"I know," I told him with the same measure of solemnity.

The effect was immediate; his face brightened up and the tension in his shoulders melted away. He stopped picking at his nails.

"Good." Then, kicking up his legs to rest his feet on the dashboard, he asked, "So, when are we going to get moving again?"

My response was to stick my tongue out at him, put the car back into drive, and then accelerate so fast that he made a startled sound that morphed into peals of laughter halfway through.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

When we got out of the car, no-one was there to greet us. All we could hear was the tremendous chorus of frogs in the nearby pond, and beyond that, the voices of our friends. I grinned, feeling like I was walking through a dream right now. I started for the path, but stopped when I realized that Mello wasn't following me. I looked back to see that he was still standing by the car with his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"What's wrong?" I asked him when I reached his side.

He didn't even look at me; he just continued staring wide-eyed into the darkness. "This all happened so fast…"

I grinned and put my hands on his shoulders, putting myself directly in front of him until I was sure that he was meeting my eyes. "I know. But that's good, right?"

"Yeah…" he said, and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It's just… I don't know how to act; I don't what to say. For so long I told myself this would never happen and now…" He trailed off, looking sombrely into my eyes.

"Well, that's okay–"

I was cut off by him wheeling me around and slamming me against the car.

"Mells?" I squeaked, eyes wide.

"Just shut up for a second."

I did.

He was looking into my eyes again, and then his gaze travelled over every feature of my face. I stood still, saying nothing. At last, he fisted his hand in my hair and crushed his lips against mine in a bruising kiss. By the end of it, my lungs were screaming for oxygen.

When he pulled back at last, his eyes were clear again. He smiled at me. "Okay. You're real. Let's go."

I expected him to start walking, and then I would fall in line just like always – but instead, he grabbed for my hand and we walked up the hill together. As we got closer to the top, the indistinct jumble of voices took on meaning.

"Thirty-six bottles of beer on the wall, thirty-six bottles of beer! _Everybody! _Take one down, pass it around, thirty-five bottles of beer on the _waaaaall_!"

Someone yelled, "Light, you drink!"

"If Light drinks, then Misa-Misa drinks, too!"

It took a while for anyone to notice us standing there. After Misa and Light had both taken a drink, they had decided it was perfectly logical to make out. Meanwhile, L was crouched next to them, popping Skittles into his mouth and grinding them between his teeth like he had a personal vendetta against them. Occasionally, Misa would accidentally kick him in all of her excitement, and his eye would twitch. With that going on, everyone's attention was pretty much accounted for.

That is, until Halle stood up and shouted, "Holy shit, you guys! They're back!"

We held up our interlocked hands and waved with our other free ones.

Near cleared his throat. "Light, when you are done devouring Misa's face, you owe me five dollars."

Mello smirked and I laughed. "Thanks for the confidence, Near," I said.

"Not a problem. I got your back, bro," Near intoned with an entirely straight face. This caused Linda to burst into a giggle fit, and she would have fallen out of her seat had Near not steadied her.

I shared a look with Mello, who was mirroring my incredulous expression. "Um… what?"

Near shook his head. "I believe I am a bit tipsy right now. Please disregard anything I say from this point forward."

Mello snickered. "What a surprise; Near is just as boring when he's drunk as when he's sober."

"That depends on your definition of boring," I replied, grinning.

"Well, well. Look who it is."

Mello dropped my hand and whipped around. Knowing exactly who it was, I turned a little more slowly, and with a hell of a lot less hostility.

Wedy was sitting on the edge of the snack table, drinking from a water bottle. I gave her a wave, and she hopped off and started towards us. Mello shot me a glance before turning the full intensity of his gaze on her. They sized each other up, and I was reminded of that day in midsummer when they done a similar thing in my garage.

Mello was the first to speak. "I am not going to say that I'm sorry, because it would be a lie."

"Good," Wedy said. "I wouldn't want to hear it anyway."

Mello nodded, narrowing his eyes.

Then, looking over at me for a moment before setting her eyes back on him, Wedy smiled. "The next time we race bikes on the highway, I am going to make you eat my dust."

Mello's eyes flashed at this. It took him a few seconds before his expression changed, his lips curling up into a wolfish grin. "We'll see about that."

Wedy walked back to the fire pit, then, and Mello turned to me.

"She's not so bad," was all he said before he too went over to join everyone.

I smiled.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

When we finally got around to burying the time capsule, it was very late. Most of the people threw their objects in with no introduction, and it was so dark that you couldn't always tell what other people were putting in. When it got to my turn, however, I felt words burning at my lips and I knew I had to say them.

"To endings and beginnings," I said, pulling my cracked pair of goggles out of my back pocket. I looked around at everyone's faces. "And damn good friends."

"Damn good friends!" everyone chorused, grinning.

I set the goggles in the box, not even feeling a twinge. What's most important are the people with me now, not the illusions that I used to hang onto. All of these people had shown me that I was important to them in some way, and come what may, I would always have a place for them in my heart.

Even fucking Light Yagami. God knows the town won't be the same without him prissing it up.

I was the last person who'd brought something (or so I thought), and so I was surprised when Mello stepped forward unexpectedly, removing his rosary from his neck. He clutched it in his hand and raised it to his mouth.

"_Dors bien, Grand-mère_," he whispered, pressing his lips to his fist. His eyes were like the depths of the ocean, staring off into someplace no-one else could see, and I felt like I could drown in them. The firelight glinted off of the rosary beads; the metal crucifix was held tight in his white-knuckled grip.

He placed the rosary into the box and turned away.

I followed him back to the fire pit and sat down beside him.

"You didn't have to do that," I told him.

In answer, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. We stared ahead into the fire, neither of us caring to let go.

There was nothing else to say.

Mello's grandmother had given him that rosary before I had met him. I'd never met her, but when we were younger, Mello would always tell me how she made the best chocolate in the world. He would sit with her in her kitchen, watching her toil away, and they would talk for hours. He would tell me about the fairy tales she would tell him – "Not the ones for pansies_," _he would insist_. "_The good ones; the ones with blood and magic and evil pixies" – and how they would play games of pretend. Mello would brag that he was her _favourite_, the only one she told all her secrets to.

She died when he was nine, and he never talked about her after that.

"Grandma would have loved you," Mello said suddenly, so quiet that I almost missed it.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I gave his hand another squeeze and kissed his temple.

Halle came right over to us then, and without warning, buried her head in Mello's lap and started bawling. Even more surprising was that Mello seemed to be completely underwhelmed by this, almost as if he had expected it to happen. He patted her head without even looking away from the fire.

"Everything's changing!" Halle sobbed. "And you guys are so beautiful… You have no idea how happy I am for you!"

Wedy and Kiyomi rushed over and got Halle back to her feet. Wedy propped her up while Kiyomi chastised, "You have had more than enough tonight, hon. We are cutting you off."

Halle just sniffed and nodded.

Wedy sighed. "C'mon. Let's go get you cleaned up."

As we watched them walk away, Mello smirked.

"Damn good friends," he said with more than a little humour.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The fire had long since smoldered down to ashes by the time we got into the car. We weren't the only ones thinking of heading home; Light had headed off with Misa and L (the latter, I noticed, looking peevish towards their drunken behaviour), Linda had offered to take Near back to his apartment (to which Mello had pointedly gagged and I had laughed), and Wedy was currently trying to coax a yawning Kiyomi to let her drive her home. Despite the fact that the party was most certainly over, Halle was still dancing around the dying fire as if the night were still young.

I watched as Mello got his seat belt on, smiling. He looked up then, catching the expression on my face, and he stuck his tongue out at me. I leaned over and kissed him.

When I pulled back, he blinked. "What was that for?" he asked, his voice sounding huskier than usual.

"Kiss me quick, but don't slobber, right?" I answered with a grin and then kissed him again. This time, it was just because I could; it was awesome to know that I could kiss him whenever like that. Also, I'd decided in that moment that he looks pretty damn cute when he's confused.

Suddenly, I remembered the box of chocolates I'd bought for him yesterday and I ripped away from him, practically lunging over the divider as I reached into the backseat.

"If you're throwing up right now," Mello growled, "I'm going to kick your ass."

"No! I'm just grabbing something."

"Oh. Well, alright then," he said, after which he followed typical Mello-logic when it comes to appropriate responses in social situations and smacked my ass.

This elicited an offended gasp and a glare from me. He just smirked, looking particularly proud of himself. "Don't stick it in my face if you don't like the consequences."

"That's what she said," I muttered under my breath. Just then, I finally found the chocolates under the unbelievable amount of crap that had accumulated in the backseat in the past day (thankfully, the box was in excellent condition still), and I settled back down in my seat.

"Here," I said, placing the box on his lap. As I refastened my seatbelt, I tried to gauge his reaction.

He looked… disappointed?

I frowned, feeling my heart sink in my chest. "What? Did I get the wrong kind?"

Mello glanced at the backseat and then back at the box again, and I still couldn't place the look on his face. "No, it's not that at all… I'm just a little… Never mind. I love it." At once, the hard line that his lips had pressed into softened, and he granted me a warm smile.

Still worried that I had let him down in some way, I persisted.

"Seriously, Mells, what is it? Is it because it was sitting under stuff in the backseat? 'Cause I swear, it was only back there for a short amount of ti–"

Without a word, he covered my mouth with his hand. 'Didn't even look at me as he tore into the box. It was only when he caught sight of the chocolate that he removed his hand. "Oh, hells yes."

The deliberation phase didn't last long. He picked what looked to be the largest one, popped it in his mouth, closed his eyes, and moaned.

I stared at him in disbelief, feeling a bit squirmy all of a sudden. "It can't be that good."

Apparently he took that as a challenge.

Mello's eyes slid open to half-mast as he grabbed another chocolate, staring me down. He raised the sweet to his mouth and took a slow, deliberate swipe over it with his tongue. He paused a moment to lick whatever he'd missed off of his lips, and then popped what remained of the chocolate into his mouth. As soon as it hit his tongue, he made a show of tossing back his head and making the most exaggerated moan I have ever heard in my life.

Do I even have to state that I was blushing by this point?

He licked the remnants off of his fingers gleefully. With his fair hair, blue eyes, and tranquil smile, he looked practically angelic right then.

Lucifer was an angel, too, after all.

"Thank you," he simpered once he was finished putting on his little show.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, all the while thinking of dying puppies and wrinkly, old people to calm myself down.

After closing it up, he tossed the box into the back for later and got settled in for the drive back home. He sighed, giving me a tired smile. "Man, what a crazy night."

"Yeah, I know." I laughed, still not believing the events that had passed tonight. "So – you said if I hadn't come to your house earlier, you would have come out here on your own. What were you planning to do?"

Mello wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on. You _always_ know; you're the man with the plan."

He snorted at this before looking up at the roof of the car, as if he expected his response to be printed there for him. "Well," he said, "since we're in the habit of acting out scenes from old movies tonight… Maybe I would have gotten tarted up, shown up here smoking a cigarette to show you I approve of your bad-boy demeanor," – here it was my turn to snort – "and then we would all jump into a performance of 'You're the One that I Want' from the movie _Grease_, during which I would completely and utterly seduce you.

He looked over at me. "How does that sound for a plan?"

I regarded him very seriously – for about two seconds.

Then I burst out laughing.

He smirked. "I hope you like that mental image I just provided – because it is never going to happen."

Turning my eyes on him, I unleashed my best puppy-dog pout. Yes, I was beginning to see the advantages of having my eyes uncovered…

The response that completely dashed all my hopes was a mere shake of his head.

"You're a cruel, cruel person, Mells," I said, throwing him a mock-glare as I put the car into gear.

He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Tell me about it, stud."

With that – and some more blushing on my part – we drove off into the darkness. Sure – the car wasn't levitating, there wasn't a dance number, and I don't think any amount of pleading I could muster up would ever persuade Mello to sing that song… But I was happy.

Hell, I was the happiest I'd been since… ever.

All in all, I think everything worked out just fine in the end.

Carpe Diem, indeed.

* * *

**And there it is! Thank you all so much for reading all the way to the end! For those who reviewed, a special thank you to you, as well. I regret that I don't always have time to respond, but just know that I appreciated each and every comment. They helped me to know what I am already doing well and what things I need to improve upon. With this information, I will continue to grow as a writer and work to provide you guys with good stories.  
**

**Alright. Next order of business! There will be a sequel, titled "Take Your Time", and it will be in Mello's point of view. I won't start posting it until after summer, however, because I have exams and the due date for my art portfolio coming up, and I will need some time after that to just relax and feel like I am free of deadlines. I will continue to write during that time, though; in fact, I'm planning on getting as much done as possible so that, when I do post, you guys won't have to wait too long for updates. Beyond that, I have a few one-shots that I might post during that time, so keep an eye out for those, too, if you like. :)**

**'Til next time!**

**~PenguinxHero**


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